UC-NRLF 


B  ^  tD5  ^^^ 


:/ 


^^li 


MIGH6LANGEL0 


-SS2«- 


.^^Jfiis^r^ 

a 

I 

.1/ 

' 

P/mfvr 


tmmmmm 


NJ» 


WMH 


\BftV^ 


*?«?*': 


ir 


1 


MASTERS    IN    ART 

A       SERIES       OF       ILLUSTRATED 
MONOGRAPHS:     ISSUED     MONTHLY 


PART   17 


MAY,    1901 


VOLUME    2 


^itf^tlntiQtlo 


K^    a    jpainter 


CONTENTS 


Plate  I.  Holy  Family 

Plate  II.        The  Creation  of  the  Sun  and  Moon 

Plate  III.       The  Creation  of  Man 

Plate  IV.       The  Temptation  and  Expulsion 

Plate  V.         Jeremiah 

Plate  VI.       The  Delphic  Sibyl 

Plate  VII.     Daniel 

Plate  VIII.   The  Cum^an  Sibyl 

Plate  IX.       Decorative  Figure 

Plate  X.        Last  Judgment 

Design  of  the  Ceiling  of  the  Sistine  Chapel 

Portrait  of  Michelangelo,  Uffizi  Gallery:  Florence 

The  Art  of  Michelangelo 

Criticisms  by  Taine,  Delacroix,  Berenson,  Muntz,  Wolfflin, 
E.  H.  AND  E.  W.  Blashfield  and   Hopkins,  Editors,  Symonds 
The  Works  of  Michelangelo  in  Painting:  Descriptions  of  the  Plates  and  a  List 

of   Paintings 
Michelangelo  Bibliography 

Photo-Engravings  ht   Folsom  and  Sunirgren:  Boston.      Press-work  by  the  Everett  Press:  Boston. 


Uffizi  Gallery:  Florence 
Sistine  Chapel:  Rome 
Sistine  Chapel:  Rome 
Sistine  Chapel:  Rome 
Sistine  Chapel:  Rome 
Sistine  Chapel:  Rome 
Sistine  Chapel:  Rome 
Sistine  Chapel:  Rome 
Sistine  Chapel:  Rome 
Sistine  Chapel:  Rome 
Facing  page  36 
Page  20 


Page  21 


Page  34 
Page  40 


PUBLISHERS'    ANNOUNCEMENTS 

SUBSCRIPTIONS:    Subscription  price,  $1.50  a  year,  in  advance,  postpaid  to  any  address  in  the  United  States  or 
Canada:   to  foreign  countries  in  the    Postal   Union,   $2.00.     Single  copies,    15  cents.     Subscriptions  may  begin  with  any 
issue.  But  as  each  yearly  volume  of  the  magazine  commences  with  the  January  number,  and  as  index-pages,  bindings,  etc., 
are  prepared  for  complete  volumes,  intending  subscribers  are  advised  to  date  their  subscriptions  from  January. 
REMITTANCES  :    Remittances  may  be   made  by  Post  Office  money-order,  bank  cheque,  express  order,  or  in  post- 
age stamps.     Currency  sent  by  mail  usually  comes  safely,  but  should  be  securely  wrapped,  and  is  at  the  risk  of  the  sender. 
CHANGES   OF  ADDRESS :    When  a  change  of  address  is  desired,  both  the  old  and  the  new  addresses  should  be 
given,  and  notice  of  the  change  should  reach  this  office  not  later  than  the  fifteenth  of  the  month  to  affect  the  succeeding 
issue.     The  publishers  cannot  be  responsible  for  copies  lost  through  failure  to  r.otiiy   chem  of  such  changes. 
BOUND  VOLUMES  AND   BINDINGS  :  VolWe  L,,  Containinp,  Parts  i  to   12  inclusive,  bound  in  brown 
buckram  with  gilt  stamps  and  gilt  top,   $3.00,  postpp.ia';   bband  in  green  half-morocco,  gilt  top,  $3.50,  postpaid.    Sub- 
scribers' copies  of  Volume  1.  will  be  bound  to   ordtr  in   buckr.-n.,' wiCh  Jil..  aramps  a?id  gilt  top,  for  ^1.505   or  in   half- 
morocco,  gilt  top,  for  52. 00.      Indexes  and  half-iitles  foi  bmding 'Vo'n.me  1    supplied  on  application. 


BATES    &    GUILD    COMPANY,    PUBLISHERS 
42      CHAUNCY      STREET,      BOSTON,     MASS. 


iij-40/ 


Entered  at  the  Boston  Post  Office  as  Second-class  Mail  Matter.      Copyright.,  IQOI.,  by  Bates  &  Guild  Company.,  Boston. 


MASTERS    IN    ART 


Bo\n\d  Volvimes 

of 
MASTERS  IN  ART 

ybr    1901 


MASTE 

mm 


\  AN  DY< 
TITIAN 

:><'■!  7  tCET 

MJYMULC 
MILLET 

.'.'^i-BEiLIl 

MViriLU 

H^LS■, 

I'    M  HAE' 


MASTERS 
*INART^ 


vAN-DYCK  !:;■■ 

TITIAN      iJV 

VELASQJ/EZ  v., 

HOLBElNYi  r^; 

BOTTICELLI  ''-i 

RtMCRANUT^-' 

REYNOLDS    y'- 

\     MiLLET      r~ 

O'lE-^MiElLINl  &■ 

^    MVRILLO    )< 

>        HALS        [Ji' 

4    RMHAEL    & 


Full  Cloth, 


postpacid.    $3.00 


Gold  lettering  and  gilt  top  ;  brown  buckram. 
Subscribers'  copies  bound  in  this  style  for  $1.50. 


-■: 


Ha-lf  Morocco  (green)  postpaid,     $3.30 

Gold  lettering  and  gilt  top. 
Subscribers'  copies  bound  in  this  style  for  $2.00. 

Bates  6v  Guild  Company.  Boston 


)ci)ool  of  Bratotng  anti 
^aintms 

MUSEUM  OF  FINE  ARTS,  BOSTON,  MASS. 

fnjitructor;^ :    E.   C.  TARBELL,   F.  W.   BENSON,  and 
PHILIP  HALE,     Drawing  and  Painting 
B.  L.  PRATT,    Modelling 
Mrs.  WM.    STONE,    Decorative  Design 
E.  W.  EMERSON,   Anatomy 
A.  K.  CROSS,    Perspective 

Twenty-fifth  year  now  open. 

Free  use  of  Museum  galleries.  Paige  Foreign  Scholarship  for  men  and 
women.  Helen  Hamblen  Scholarship.  Ten  Free  Scholarships.  Six 
prizes  in  money.     For  circulars  and  terms  address 

Miss  Emily  Danforth  Norcross,  Manager 

CJje  Cric  ^ajje  ^c&ool  of  9lrt 

Third  Year,  Oct.  i,  1900,  to  June  i,  1901. 

Head  Instructor  and  Director, 

ERIC  PAPE,  Painter  and  Illustrator. 

No  Examinations  for  Admissiort, 

Drawing  and  Painting  from  life,  separate  classes  for  men  and  women. 
Portraiture,  Still  Life,  Water-color,  Pastel,  Pyrogravure,  Wood-carving, 
Composition,  and  Decorative  Design. 

Illustration,  with  costume  models,  Pen,  Wash,  Gouache,  Poster  and 
Book-cover  designing.  Decorative  Illumination  for  books. 
Evening  Life  and  Illustration  Class  for  men,  7  to  10  P.M. 
Scholarships,  Medals,  and  Prizes, 
For  circulars  and  all  information  address 

H.  JARVIS  PECK,  Secretary, 
Corner  Massachusetts  Ave.  and  Boylston  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 


art  acatiemp  of  Cincinnati 

Endowments,  $393,000.     Tuition  Fee,  $20. 

DRAWING  AND   PAINTING 
Fi^ve  Life  Classes:   Frank  Duveneck,   T.  S.  Noble, 
V.  Nowottny,    L.  H.  Meakin,    and    J.  H.  Sharp 

MODELLING  :   C.  J.  Barnhom 

CARVING  :   W.  H.  Fry 

Also  Preparatory  and  other  Classes 

33d  year :  Sept.  24,  1900,  to  May  25,  igoi 

AND  SUMMER  TERM  OF  10  WEEKS  FROM  JUNE  18 

For  circulars  write  A.T.  GosHORN,  Z)/r^r/or, -Cincinnati 

Virginia  female  ^Uj^titiite 

for  goung  ?laliiCjS 

situated  in  the  mountains  of  Virginia.  Preparatory  and  elective  courses. 
Music,  Art,  Languages,  and  Elocution,  specialties.  Fifty-seventh  ses- 
sijn  iegins  September  13.     Write  for  catalogue. 

Wiss  MARIA  PENDLETON  DUVAL,  Prin.,  Staunton,  Va. 
Successor  to  Mrs.  Gen.  J.  E.  B.  Stuart. 

COHMERCIAL  DRAWING  TAUGHT 


Coj 


By 

V/e  fit  the  student  for  work  in  Newspaper,  Lithographing, 

raving  and  other  Establishments,   or  the  Studio.     The 

profession   is  highly  profitable,  and 

I  the  demand  for  competent  educated 

artists  is  practically  unlimited. 

PRACTICAL  drawing  taught  by  PBACTICAI. 

methods.     Write  for  further  information. 

SCHOOL  OF  APPLIED  ART,  Box  3807,  Battle  Creek,  Hich. 


M  ASTERS    IN    ART 


^  «t  X 


There  is  such  a.  wide 
difference  in  the  quality 
of  V  V 

Oriental 

{^t  SO  mvich  tKa^t  is  in- 
ferior in  this  line  on  the 
market,  that  the  \itmost 
care  should  be  taken  to 
secure  perfect  speci- 
mens. The  advice  of  QlH 
writers  on  this  s\ibject 
invariably  is:  **'Btiy  Ort- 
erftal  ^txgs  J^rom  a,  re- 
liable hoxxse.** 

The  knowledge  gained 
by  yea^rs  of  experience 
in  handling  these  inter- 
esting Floor  Coverings, 
{^l  the  \jnlimited  scope 
of  o\jr 


Oriental  'Rxt^   Department 


covering,  ©ls  it  does,  the  choicest  importations  of 
every  importa^nt  va^riety,  enable  \is  to  a^ssure  our 
patrons,  not  only  a  large  assortment  to  select  from, 
b\jt  a^lso  the  a^bsolxite  va^lxie  a^nd  genxiineness  of 
every  rug  pxircha^sed  from  us. 


'BTiOADWA^^  rSl    19TH   ST. 


OAJ^E 


r»  w  r^  a  A  Ci 


<DL 


STERS     IN     ART 


g  a  IJatnter 


ENTINE     SCHOOL 


»  >  •  > ,  >  ..         •.*  • 

» >  '  » '  ' 
;     ,;.  :    H'  -•  ^^' '• '•  " 


MASTKRS    IX    AHT      PLATE  I 

PHOTOGRAPH    BY    ALINARI 


A 


MICHELANGELO         ~ 
HOLY  FAMILY 
TTFFIZI    GALLEIJY,   FLOKENCE 


—  K  _ 


'  V 


3 


$ 
I* 

^-^^ 

■f  *^  * 

-*   _    »?: 
£f  JC'  4E 

*  S* 

*  *•* 

'^^  3J.  *• 

fi 


XT. 


>      ^    ■    i' 


I    3  J  > 


•  i ': 


'  -> ' »   ■» ' '  • 


3TEES  i:^  AKT      PLATE  V 

PHOTOGRAPH    BY    ANDERSON 


.MICHELANGELO 

JEREMIAH 

SISTIJVE  CHAPEL,  HOME 


5^    a    3     3     a 


STEKS   IX  ART      PLATK  Vl 

PMOTOGR'^PH    BY   ANDERSON 


MICHEL  A  XGELO 

THE  DELPHIC  SIBVL 

SISTIXE  CHAPEL,  HOME 


I 


MASTERS   IN"  AI{T     PLATF.  VII 

PHOTOGRAPH    BY    ANDERSON 


MICHEL  AXGELO 

DAXIELi 

SISTINE  CHAPEL,  HOME 


c  f  f         c 
c      ^      f 


'     r         c 


'   '   '     ^  c     '  ^' 


1 


i 


MASTERS     IX  ART      PLATK  VIII 

PHOTOGRAPH    BY    ALINARI 


MICHELANGELO 

THE  CUMAEAX  SIBYL 

SISTIXE  CHAPEL,  HOME 


»     >  '   1 


>      >        9       » 


»  »  ' 


■  9  »         » 


H      »    »  » 


MASTERS  IX  ART     PLATE  IX 

PHOTOGRAPH    BY    BR  AUN,  CLEMENT    A   CIE. 


MICHELANGELO 

DECOBATIVE  FIGURE 

SISTINE  CHAPEL,   HOME 


'        '      >       J      >     ,    '      '         '  \ 


rASTERS    IX  AKT      PLATK  X 

PHOTOGRAPH    BY   AN0ERSO^ 


MICnELANGELO 

LAST  JUDGME:jfT 

SIST1J\'E  CHAPEL,   HOME 


POKTHAIT   OF   MICHELAXGELO  UFFIZI  GALLEKT,    FLOKEXCE 

Vasari  mentions  but  two  painted  portraits  of  Michelangelo  ;  one  by  his  friend 
Bugiardini,  the  other  by  Jacopo  del  Conte.  Del  Conte's  work  has  disappeared  ; 
but  Svmonds  is  inclined  to  think  that  the  portrait  here  reproduced  may  "  with  some 
show  of  probability  "  be  assigned  to  Bugiardini. 


MASTERS    IN     ART 


JWttijelau^elo  Buonart^oti 


BORN    1475:     DIED    1564 
FLORENTINE    SCHOOL  ^ 


In  this  issue  only  Michelangelo's  works  in  painting  are  illustrated.  His  achievements  in 
sculpture  were  considered  in  the  preceding  number  of  this  Series,  in  which  an  account  of 
his  life  was  also  given. 


H.     TAINE  'VOYAGE    EN    ITALIE' 

THERE  are  four  men  in  the  world  of  art  and  of  literature  so  exalted  above 
all  others  as  to  seem  to  belong  to  another  race  ;  namely,  Dante,  Shake- 
speare, Beethoven,  and  Michelangelo.  No  profound  knowledge,  no  posses- 
sion of  all  the  resources  of  art,  no  fertility  of  imagination,  no  originality  of 
intellect,  sufficed  to  secure  them  this  position  ;  these  they  all  had,  but  these 
are  of  secondary  importance.  That  which  elevated  each  of  them  to  this  rank 
was  his  soul,  —  the  soul  of  a  fallen  deity,  struggling  irresistibly  after  a  world 
disproportionate  to  our  own,  always  suffering  and  combating,  always  toiling 
and  tempestuous,  and  as  incapable  of  being  sated  as  of  sinking,  devoting 
itself  in  solitude  to  erecting  before  men  colossi  as  ungovernable,  as  vigorous, 
and  as  sadly  sublime  as  its  own  insatiable  and  impotent  desire.  Michelangelo 
is  thus  a  modern  spirit,  and  it  is  for  this  reason,  perhaps,  that  we  are  able  to 
comprehend  him  without  effort. 

Was  he  more  unfortunate  than  other  men  .?  Regarding  things  externally, 
it  seems  that  he  was  not.  If  he  was  tormented  by  an  avaricious  family,  if 
on  two  or  three  occasions  the  caprice  or  the  death  of  a  patron  prevented  the 
execution  of  an  important  work  already  designed  or  commenced,  if  his  coun- 
try fell  into  servitude,  if  minds  around  him  degenerated  or  became  weak, 
these  are  not  unusual  disappointments,  or  serious  and  painful  obstacles.  How 
many  among  his  contemporary  artists  experienced  greater.''  But  suffering 
must  be  measured  by  inward  emotion,  and  not  by  outward  circumstance ; 
and  if  ever  a  spirit  existed  which  was  capable  of  transports  of  enthusiasm 
and  passionate  indignation,  it  was  his. 

Sensitive  to  excess,  he  was  therefore  lonely  and  ill  at  ease  in  the  petty 
concerns  of  society,  to  such  an  extent,  for  example,  that  he  could  never 
bring  himself  to  entertain  at  dinner.  Men  of  deep,  enduring  emotions  main- 
tain an  outward  reserve,  and  fall  back  upon  introspection  for  lack  of  out- 


22 


0la^tcv0    in    ^rt 


ward  sympathy.  From  his  youth  up  society  was  distasteful  to  Michelangelo, 
and  he  had  so  applied  himself  to  solitary  study  as  to  be  considered  proud  and 
even  insane.  Later,  at  the  acme  of  his  fame,  he  withdrew  himself  still  more 
completely  from  his  kind  ;  he  took  his  walks  in  solitude,  was  served  by  one 
domestic,  and  passed  entire  weeks  on  his  scaffoldings,  wholly  absorbed  in 
self-communion.  He  could  hold  converse  with  no  other  mind  :  not  only 
were  his  sentiments  too  powerful,  but  they  were  too  exalted. 

From  his  earliest  years  he  had  passionately  cherished  all  noble  things  ; 
first  his  art,  to  which  he  gave  himself  up  entirely,  notwithstanding  his 
father's  opposition,  investigating  all  its  accessories,  measure  and  scalpel  in 
hand,  with  such  extraordinary  persistence  that  he  became  ill ;  and  next,  his 
self-respect,  which  he  maintained  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  facing  imperious 
popes  and  forcing  them  to  regard  him  as  an  equal,  braving  them,  says  his 
historian,  "more  than  a  king  of  France  would  have  done."  Ordinary  pleas- 
ures he  held  in  contempt ;  "  although  rich,  he  lived  laboriously,  as  frugally 
as  a  poor  man,"  often  dining  on  a  crust  of  bread  ;  treating  himself  severely, 
sleeping  but  little  and  then  often  in  his  clothes,  without  luxury  of  any  kind, 
without  household  display,  without  care  for  money,  giving  away  statues  and 
pictures  to  his  friends,  twenty  thousand  francs  to  his  servant,  thirty  thousand 
and  forty  thousand  francs  at  one  time  to  his  nephew,  besides  countless  other 
sums  to  the  rest  of  his  family. 

More  than  this :  he  lived  like  a  monk,  without  wife  or  mistress,  chaste  in 
a  voluptuous  court,  knowing  but  one  love,  and  that  austere  and  Platonic,  for 
one  woman  as  proud  and  as  noble  as  himself.  At  evening,  after  the  labor 
of  the  day,  he  wrote  sonnets  in  her  praise,  and  knelt  in  spirit  before  her,  as 
did  Dante  at  the  feet  of  Beatrice,  praying  to  her  to  sustain  his  weaknesses 
and  keep  him  in  the  "right  path."  He  bowed  his  soul  before  her  as  before 
an  angel  of  virtue,  showing  the  same  fervid  exaltation  in  her  service  as  that 
of  the  mystics  and  knights  of  old.  She  died  before  him,  and  for  a  long  time 
he  remained  "  downstricken,  as  if  deranged."  Several  years  later  his  heart 
still  cherished  a  great  grief,  —  the  regret  that  he  had  not,  at  her  deathbed, 
kissed  her  brow  or  cheek  instead  of  her  hand. 

The  rest  of  his  life  corresponds  with  such  sentiments.  He  took  great  de- 
light in  the  "arguments  of  learned  men,"  and  in  perusal  of  the  poet's,  espe- 
cially Petrarch  and  Dante,  whom  he  knew  almost  by  heart.  "  Would  to 
heaven,"  he  one  day  wrote,  "  I  were  such  as  he,  even  at  the  price  of  such  a 
fate  !  For  his  bitter  exile  and  his  virtue  I  would  exchange  the  most  fortunate 
lot  in  the  world  !  "  The  books  he  preferred  were  those  imbued  with  gran- 
deur, the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  and  especially  the  impassioned  dis- 
courses of  Savonarola,  his  master  and  his  friend,  whom  he  saw  bound  to  the 
pillory,  strangled,  and  burnt,  and  whose  "  living  word,"  he  wrote,  "  would 
always  remain  branded  in  his  soul." 

A  man  who  lives  and  feels  thus  knows  not  how  to  accommodate  himse'f 
to  this  life  ;  he  is  too  different.  The  admiration  of  others  produces  no  self- 
satisfaction.  "  He  disparaged  his  own  works,  never  finding  that  his  hand  had 
expressed  the  conception  formed  within  him."  One  day  some  one  encountered 


icljclaugclo  23 

him,  aged  and  decrepit,  near  the  Colosseum,  on  foot  and  in  the  snow.  He 
was  asked  where  he  was  going.  "  To  school,"  he  replied  ;  "  to  school,  to  trv 
and  learn  something."  Despair  seized  him  often.  Once,  having  injured  his 
leg,  he  shut  himself  up  in  his  house,  waiting  and  longing  for  death.  Finally, 
he  even  went  so  far  as  to  separate  himself  from  himself, —  from  that  art  which 
was  his  sovereign  and  his  idol :  "  Picture  or  statue,"  he  wrote,  "let  nothing 
now  divert  my  soul  from  that  divine  love  on  the  Cross,  with  arms  always  open  I 
to  receive  us  !  "  It  was  the  last  sigh  of  a  great  soul  in  a  degenerate  age,  among  | 
an  enslaved  people  !  Self-renunciation  was  his  last  refuge.  For  sixty  years 
his  works  gave  evidence  of  the  heroic  combat  which  maintained  itself  in  his 
breast  to  the  end. 

Superhuman  personages  as  miserable  as  ourselves,  forms  of  gods  rigid  with 
earthly  passion,  an  Olympus  of  human  tragedies,  such  is  the  sentiment  of  the 
ceiling  of  the  Sistine  Chapel.  What  injustice  to  compare  with  Michelangelo's 
works  the  '  Sibyls  '  and  the  '  Isaiah'  of  Raphael  !  The  latter  are  vigorous  and 
beautiful,  I  admit,  nor  do  I  dispute  that  they  testify  to  an  equally  profound 
art;  but  the  first  glance  suffices  to  show  that  they  have  not  the  same  soul:  they 
do  not  issue  like  Michelangelo's  forms  from  an  impetuous,  irresistible  spirit; 
they  have  never  experienced  like  his  the  thrill  and  tension  of  a  nervous  being, 
concentrated  and  launching  Itself  forth  at  the  risk  of  ruin.  There  are  souls 
whose  impressions  flash  out  like  lightning,  and  whose  actions  are  thunderbolts. 
Such  are  the  personages  of  Michelangelo.  His  colossal  'Jeremiah,'  with  eyes 
downcast,  and  with  his  enormous  head  resting  on  his  enormous  hand,— on 
what  does  he  muse?  His  floating  beard  descending  in  curls  to  his  breast,  his 
laborer's  hands  furrowed  with  swollen  veins,  his  wrinkled  brow,  his  impene- 
trable mask,  the  suppressed  mutter  about  to  burst  forth, —  all  suggest  one  of 
those  barbarian  kings,  a  dark  hunter  of  the  urus,  preparing  to  dash  in  impotent 
rage  against  the  golden  gates  of  the  Roman  empire.  'Ezekiel'  turns  around 
suddenly,  with  an  impetuous  interrogation  on  his  lips — so  suddenly  that  the 
motion  raises  his  mantle  from  his  shoulder.  The  aged  '  Persic  Sibyl '  under 
the  long  folds  of  her  falling  hood  is  indefatigably  reading  from  a  book  which 
her  knotted  hands  hold  up  to  her  penetrating  eyes.  'Jonah '  throws  back  his 
head,  appalled  at  the  frightful  apparition  before  him,  his  fingers  involuntarily 
counting  the  forty  days  that  still  remain  to  Nineveh.  The  '  Libyan  Sibyl,'  in 
great  agitation,  is  about  to  descend,  bearing  the  enormous  book  she  has  seized. 
'  The  Erythraean  Sibyl '  is  a  Pallas  of  a  haughtier  and  more  warlike  expres- 
sion than  her  antique  Athenian  sister.  On  the  curve  of  the  vault,  close  to 
these  figures,  appear  nude  adolescents,  straining  their  backs  and  displaying  their 
limbs,  sometimes  proudly  extended  and  reposing,  and  again  struggling  or  dart- 
ing forward.  Some  are  shouting,  and  some,  with  rigid  thighs  and  grasping  feet, 
seem  to  be  furiously  attacking  the  wall.  Beneath,  an  old  stooping  pilgrim  is 
seating  himself,  a  woman  is  kissing  an  infant  wrapped  in  its  swaddling-clothes, 
a  despairing  man  is  bitterly  defying  destiny,  a  young  girl  with  a  beautiful  smiling 
face  is  sleeping  tranquilly, — and  many  others,  the  grandest  of  human  forms, 
that  speak  with  every  least  detail  of  their  attitudes,  with  every  least  fold  of 
their  garments. 


24  m  a0t  ex  ^    in    ^tt 


These  are  merely  the  paintings  on  the  curve  of  the  ceiHng.  On  the  centre 
of  the  vault  itself,  two  hundred  feet  long,  are  displayed  historical  scenes  from 
the  book  of  Genesis, — an  entire  population  of  figures  of  tragic  interest.  You 
lie  down  on  the  old  carpet  which  covers  the  floor  and  look  up.  They  are  nearly 
a  hundred  feet  above  you, — smoked,  scaling  off,  and  crowded  to  suffocation, 
and  remote  from  the  demands  of  our  art,  our  age,  and  our  intellect, — yet  you 
comprehend  them  at  once.  This  man  is  so  great  that  differences  of  time  and 
of  nation  cannot  subsist  in  his  presence. 

The  difficulty  lies  not  in  yielding  to  his  sway,  but  in  accounting  for  it. 
When,  after  your  ears  have  been  filled  with  the  thunder  of  his  voice,  you 
retire  to  a  distance,  so  that  only  its  reverberations  reach  you,  and  reflection 
succeeds  to  emotion,  you  try  to  discover  the  secret  by  which  he  renders  his 
tones  so  vibrating,  and  at  length  arrive  at  this, — he  possessed  the  soul  of 
Dante,  and  he  passed  his  life  in  the  study  of  the  human  figure.  These  are 
the  two  sources  of  his  power. 

The  human  form,  as  he  represented  it,  is  all  expression,  expressive  in  its 
skeleton,  its  muscles,  its  drapery,  its  attitudes,  and  its  proportions,  so  that  the 
spectator  is  affected  simultaneously  by  every  part  of  the  subject.  And  this  form 
is  made  to  express  energy,  pride,  audacity,  and  despair,  the  rage  of  ungovern- 
able passion  or  of  heroic  will,  and  in  such  a  way  as  to  move  the  spectator  with 
the  most  powerful  emotion.  Moral  energy  emanates  from  every  physical 
detail ;  we  feel  the  startling  reaction  corporeally  and  instantaneously. 

Look  at  Adam  asleep  near  Eve,  whom  Jehovah  has  just  taken  from  his 
side.  Never  was  creature  buried  in  such  profound,  deathlike  slumber.  In  the 
'Brazen  Serpent'  the  man  with  a  snake  coiled  round  his  waist,  and  tearing 
it  off,  with  arm  bent  back  and  body  distorted  as  he  extends  his  thigh,  sug- 
gests the  strife  between  primitive  mortals  and  the  monsters  whose  slimy  forms 
ploughed  the  antediluvian  soil.  Masses  of  bodies,  intermingled  one  with  the 
other  and  overthrown  with  their  heels  in  the  air,  with  arms  bent  like  bows 
and  with  convulsive  spines,  quiver  in  the  toils  of  the  serpents;  hideous  jaws 
crush  skulls  and  fasten  themselves  on  howling  lips;  miserable  beings  tremble 
on  the  ground  with  hair  on  end  and  mouths  agape,  convulsed  with  fear  in  the 
midst  of  the  heaps  of  humanity  around  them.  In  the  hands  of  a  man  who 
thus  treats  the  skeleton  and  muscles,  who  can  put  rage,  will,  and  terror  into 
the  fold  of  a  thigh,  the  projection  of  a  shoulder-blade,  the  flexions  of  the  verte- 
brae, the  whole  human  animal  is  impassioned,  actixe,  and  combatant. 

Alone  since  the  Greeks,  Alichelangelo  knew  the  full  value  of  all  the  mem- 
bers. With  him,  as  with  them,  the  body  lived  by  itself,  and  was  not  subor- 
dinated to  the  head.  Supplemented  by  his  solitary  study,  he  rediscovered  the 
sentiment  of  the  nude  with  which  the  Greeks  were  imbued  by  their  gym- 
nastic life.  Before  his  Adam  and  Eve  expelled  from  Paradise  nobody  thinks 
of  looking  to  the  face  to  find  grief;  it  resides  in  the  entire  torso,  in  the  ac- 
tive limbs,  in  the  frame  with  its  internal  parts,  in  the  friction  and  play  of  its 
moving  joints  ;  it  is  the  ensemble  which  strikes  you.  The  head  enters 
into  it  only  as  a  portion  of  the  whole  ;  and  you  stand  motionless,  absorbed 
in  contemplating  thighs  that  sustain  such  trunks  and  indomitable  arm,s  that 
are  to  subject  the  hostile  earth. 


icljclaugclo  25 

But  what,  to  my  taste,  surpass  all  are  the  twenty  youthful  figures  seated 
on  the  cornices  at  the  four  corners  of  each  fresco, —  veritable  painted  sculp- 
ture that  gives  one  an  idea  of  some  superior  and  unknown  world.  They  all 
seem  adolescent  heroes  of  the  time  of  Achilles  and  Ajax,  as  noble  in  race, 
but  more  ardent  and  of  fiercer  energy.  Here  are  the  great  nudities,  the  su- 
perb movements  of  the  limbs,  and  the  raging  activity  of  Homer's  conflicts, 
but  with  a  more  vigorous  spirit  and  a  more  courageous,  bold,  and  manly  will. 
Who  would  suppose  that  the  various  attitudes  of  the  human  figure  could 
affect  the  mind  with  such  diverse  emotions  ?  The  hips  actively  support ;  the 
breast  respires  ;  the  entire  covering  of  flesh  strains  and  quivers  ;  the  trunk 
is  thrown  back  over  the  thighs  ;  and  the  shoulder,  ridged  with  muscles,  is 
about  to  raise  the  impetuous  arm.  One  of  them  falls  backward  and  draws 
his  grand  drapery  over  his  thigh,  whilst  another,  with  his  arm  over  his  brow, 
seems  to  be  parrying  a  blow.  Others  sit  pensive,  and  meditating,  with  all 
their  limbs  relaxed.  Several  are  running  and  springing  across  the  cornice,  or 
throwing  themselves  back  and  shouting.  You  feel  that  they  are  going  to 
move  and  to  act,  yet  you  hope  that  they  will  not,  but  maintain  the  same 
splendid  attitudes.  Nature  has  produced  nothing  like  them  ;  but  she  ought 
thus  to  have  fashioned  the  human  race.  In  the  ceiling  of  the  Sistine  she 
might  find  all  types  :  giants  and  heroes,  modest  virgins,  stalwart  youths,  and 
sporting  children  ;  that  charming  '  Eve,'  so  young  and  so  proud  ;  that  beau- 
tiful '  Delphic  Sibyl,'  who,  like  some  nymph  of  the  Golden  Age,  looks  out 
with  eyes  filled  with  innocent  astonishment, —  all  the  sons  and  daughters  of 
a  colossal  militant  race,  who  preserved  the  smile,  the  serenity,  the  pure  joy- 
ousness,  the  grace  of  the  Oceanides  of  i^schylus,  or  of  the  Nausicaa  of 
Homer.  The  soul  of  a  great  artist  contains  an  entire  world  within  itself, 
Michelangelo's  soul  is  unfolded  here  on  the  Sistine  ceiling. 

Having  thus  once  given  it  expression,  he  should  not  have  endeavored  to 
repeat  the  attempt.  His  '  Last  Judgment,'  on  the  altar-wall  beneath,  does  not 
produce  the  same  impression.  When  he  finished  the  latter  picture  Michel- 
angelo was  in  his  sixty-seventh  year,  and  his  inspiration  was  no  longer  fresh. 
He  had  long  brooded  over  his  ideas,  he  had  a  better  hold  of  them,  but  they 
had  ceased  to  excite  him.  He  had  exhausted  the  original  sensation, —  the  only 
true  one, —  and  in  the  '  Last  Judgment '  he  but  exaggerates  and  copies  him- 
self. Here  he  intentionally  enlarges  the  body  and  inflates  the  muscles  ;  he 
is  prodigal  of  foreshortenings  and  violent  postures  ;  here  he  converts  his 
personages  into  mere  athletes  and  wrestlers  engaged  in  displaying  their 
strength.  The  angels  who  bear  away  the  cross  clutch  each  other,  throw 
themselves  backward,  clench  their  fists,  strain  their  thighs,  as  in  a  gymna- 
sium. The  saints  toss  about  the  insignia  of  their  martyrdoms,  as  if  each 
sought  to  attract  attention  to  his  strength  and  agility.  Souls  in  purgatory, 
saved  by  cowl  and  rosary,  are  extravagant  models  that  might  serve  for  a 
school  of  anatomy.  The  artist  had  just  entered  on  that  period  of  life  when 
sentiment  vanishes  before  science,  and  when  the  mind  takes  especial  delight 
in  overcoming  difficulties. 

Even  so,  however,  this  work  is  unique  ;  it  is  like  a  declamatory  speech 
in  the  mouth  of  an  old  warrior,  with  a  rattling  drum  accompaniment.    Some 


26  jma^tcr^in^rt 


of  the  figures  and  groups  are  worthy  of  his  grandest  efforts.  The  powerful 
Eve,  who  maternally  presses  one  of  her  horror-stricken  daughters  to  her  side  ; 
the  aged  and  formidable  Adam,  an  antediluvian  colossus,  the  root  of  the 
great  tree  of  humanity  ;  the  bestial,  carnivorous  demons  ;  the  figure  among 
the  damned  that  covers  his  face  with  his  arm  to  avoid  seeing  the  abyss  into 
which  he  is  plunging  ;  another  in  the  coils  of  a  serpent,  rigid  with  horror ; 
and  especially  the  terrible  Christ,  like  the  Jupiter  in  Homer  overthrowing 
the  Trojans  and  their  chariots  on  the  plain  ;  and,  by  his  side,  almost  con- 
cealed under  his  arm,  the  timorous,  young,  shrinking  Virgin,  so  noble  and 
so  delicate  ;  —  all  these  form  a  group  of  conceptions  equal  to  those  of  the 
:eiling.  Thev  animate  the  whole  design  ;  and  in  contemplating  them  we 
cease  to  feel  the  abuse  of  art,  the  aim  at  effect,  the  domination  of  manner- 
ism ;  we  only  see  the  disciple  of  Dante,  the  friend  of  Savonarola,  the  recluse 
feeding  himself  on  the  menaces  of  the  Old  Testament,  the  patriot,  the  stoic, 
the  lover  of  justice  who  bears  in  his  heart  the  grief  of  his  people,  who  has 
been  a  mourner  at  the  burial  of  Italian  liberty,  one  who,  alone,  amidst  de- 
graded characters  and  degenerate  minds,  labored  for  many  daily  saddening 
years  at  this  immense  work,  listening  beforehand  to  the  thunders  of  the  Last 
Day,  his  soul  filled  with  thoughts  of  the  supreme  Judgment. —  from  the 

FRENCH. 

EUGENE    DELACROIX  REVUE    DES    DEUX-MONDES:    1837 

MICHELANGELO'S  genius,  like  that  of  Homer  among  the  ancients, 
is  the  fountain-head  from  which  all  great  painters  since  have  drunk. 
Raphael  and  the  Roman  school,  the  schools  of  Florence  and  of  Parma,  in- 
cluding Andrea  del  Sarto  and  Correggio,  the  school  of  Venice,  including 
Titian,  all  reflect  his  influence.  Rubens,  in  the  north,  owes  much  of  his 
exuberance  and  audacity  to  him  —  indeed,  there  has  been  none  in  painting 
since  his  advent  so  self-poised  as  not  to  have  felt  his  potent  influence. 

Art  will  never  overstep  the  bounds  that  Michelangelo  has  traced  for  her; 
he  leaped  at  once  to  limits  that  cannot  be  surpassed.  Into  whatever  devia- 
tions she  may  be  led  by  caprice  or  the  desire  for  novelty,  the  great  style  of 
the  Florentine  master  will  always  ser\'e  as  the  magnetic  pole  to  which  all 
must  turn  who  would  rediscover  the  road  to  true  grandeur  and  beauty. — from 

THE  FRENCH. 

BERNHARD    BERENSON  'FLORENTINE    PAINTERS    OF    THE     RENAISSANCE' 

THE  first  person  since  the  great  days  of  Greek  sculpture  to  comprehend 
fully  the  identity  of  the  nude  with  great  figure  art  was  Michelangelo. 
Before  him,  it  had  been  studied  for  scientific  purposes  —  as  an  aid  in  ren- 
dering the  draped  figure.  He  saw  that  it  was  an  end  in  itself,  and  the  final 
purpose  of  his  art.  For  him  the  nude  and  art  were  synonymous.  Here  lies 
the  secret  of  his  successes  and  his  failures. 

First,  his  successes.  Nowhere  outside  of  the  best  Greek  art  shall  we  find, 
as  in  Michelangelo's  works,  forms  whose  tactile  values  so  increase  our  sense 
of  capacity,  whose  movements  are  so  directly  communicated  and  inspiring. 


ict)clangclo  27 

Other  artists  have  had  quite  as  much  feeling  for  tactile  values  alone  —  Ma- 
saccio,  for  instance  ;  others  still  have  had  as  much  sense  of  movement  and 
power  of  rendering  it  —  Leonardo,  for  example  ;  but  no  other  artist  of  mod- 
ern times  having  at  all  his  control  over  the  materially  significant  has  employed 
it  as  Michelangelo  did,  on  the  one  subject  vi'here  its  full  value  can  be  mani- 
fested —  the  nude.  Hence,  of  all  the  achievements  of  modern  art,  his  are  the 
most  invigorating.  Surely  not  often  is  our  imagination  of  touch  roused  as 
by  his  Adam  in  the  '  Creation,'  by  his  Eve  in  the  '  Temptation,'  or  by  his 
many  nudes  in  the  same  ceiling  of  the  Sistine  Chapel  —  there  for  no  other 
purpose,  be  it  noted,  than  their  direct  tonic  effect !  And  to  this  feeling  for 
the  materially  significant  and  all  this  power  of  conveying  it,  to  all  this  more 
narrowly  artistic  capacity,  Michelangelo  joined  an  ideal  of  beauty  and  force, 
a  vision  of  a  glorious  but  possible  humanity,  which,  again,  has  never  had  its 
like  in  modern  times.  Manliness,  robustness,  efi-'ectiveness,  the  fulfilment  of 
our  dream  of  a  great  soul  inhabiting  a  beautiful  body,  we  shall  encounter 
nowhere  else  so  frequently  as  among  the  figures  in  the  Sistine  Chapel. 
Michelangelo  completed  what  Masaccio  had  begun,  the  creation  of  the  type 
of  man  best  fitted  to  subdue  and  control  the  earth,  and,  who  knows  !  perhaps 
more  than  the  earth. 

But  unfortunately,  though  born  and  nurtured  in  a  world  where  his  feeling 
for  the  nude  and  his  ideal  of  humanity  could  be  appreciated,  he  passed  most 
of  his  life  in  the  midst  of  tragic  disasters,  and  while  yet  in  the  fulness  of  his 
vigor,  in  the  midst  of  his  most  creative  years,  he  found  himself  alone,  per- 
haps the  greatest,  but  alas!  also  the  last,  of  the  giants  born  so  plentifully 
during  the  fifteenth  century.  He  lived  on  in  a  world  he  could  not  but  despise, 
in  a  world  which  really  could  no  more  employ  him  than  it  could  understand 
him.  He  was  not  allowed,  therefore,  to  busy  himself  where  he  felt  most 
drawn  by  his  genius,  and,  much  against  his  own  strongest  impulses,  he  was 
obliged  to  expend  his  energy  upon  such  subjects  as  the  '  Last  Judgment.' 
His  later  works  all  show  signs  of  the  altered  conditions,  first  in  an  over- 
flow into  the  figures  he  was  creatino;  of  the  scorn  and  bitterness  he  was  feel- 
ing  ;  then  in  the  lack  of  harmony  between  his  genius  and  what  he  was  com- 
pelled to  execute.  His  passion  was  the  nude,  his  ideal  power  ;  but  what  outlet 
for  such  a  passion,  what  expression  for  such  an  ideal,  could  there  be  in  sub- 
jects like  the  '  Last  Judgment,'  or  the  'Crucifixion  of  Peter ' — subjects  which 
the  Christian  world  imperatively  demanded  should  incarnate  the  fear  of  the 
humble  and  the  self-sacrifice  of  the  patient  ?  Now  humility  and  patience 
were  feelings  as  unknown  to  Michelangelo  as  to  Dante  before  him,  or,  for 
that  matter,  to  any  other  of  the  world's  creative  geniuses  at  any  time.  Even 
had  he  felt  them,  he  had  no  means  of  expressing  them,  for  his  nudes  could 
convey  a  sense  of  power,  not  of  weakness  ;  of  terror,  not  of  dread  ;  of 
despair,  but  not  of  submission.  And  terror  the  giant  nudes  of  the  '  Last 
Judgment '  do  feel,  but  it  is  not  terror  of  the  Judge,  who,  being  in  no  wise 
diff^erent  from  the  others,  in  spite  of  his  omnipotent  gesture,  seems  to  be 
announcing  rather  than  willing  what  the  bystanders,  his  fellows,  could  not 
unwill.    As  the  representation  of  the  moment  before  the  universe  disappears 


28  Ma^tcv^in^tt 


in  chaos, —  gods  huddling  together  for  the  Gotterdammerung, —  the  '  Last 
Judgment '  is  as  grandly  conceived  as  possible  ;  but  when  the  crash  comes 
none  will  survive  it  —  no,  not  even  God.  Michelangelo  therefore  failed  in 
his  conception  of  the  subject,  and  could  not  but  fail.  But  where  else  in  the 
whole  world  of  art  shall  we  receive  such  blasts  of  energy  as  from  this  giant's 
dream,  or,  if  you  will,  nightmare  ?  What  a  tragedy,  by  the  way,  that  the  one 
subject  perfectly  cut  out  for  his  genius,  the  one  subject  which  required  none 
but  genuinely  artistic  treatment,  his  '  Bathing  Soldiers,'  executed  forty  years 
before  these  last  works,  has  disappeared,  leaving  but  scant  traces  !  Yet  even 
these  suffice  to  enable  the  competent  student  to  recognize  that  this  compo- 
sition must  have  been  the  greatest  masterpiece  in  figure  art  of  modern  times. 
That  Michelangelo  had  faults  of  his  own  is  undeniable.  As  he  got  older, 
and  his  genius,  lacking  its  proper  outlets,  tended  to  stagnate  and  thicken,  he 
fell  into  exaggerations  —  exaggerations  of  power  into  brutality,  of  tactile 
values  into  feats  of  modelling.  I  have  already  suggested  that  Giotto's  types 
were  so  massive  because  such  figures  most  easily  convey  values  of  touch. 
Michelangelo  tended  to  similar  exaggerations,  to  making  shoulders,  for  in- 
stance, too  broad  and  too  bossy,  simply  because  they  make  thus  a  more 
powerful  appeal  to  the  tactile  imagination.  Indeed,  I  venture  to  go  even 
farther,  and  suggest  that  his  faults  in  all  the  arts,  sculpture  no  less  than 
painting,  and  architecture  no  less  than  sculpture,  are  due  to  this  selfsame 
predilection  for  salient  projections.  But  the  lover  of  the  figure  arts  for  what 
in  them  is  genuinely  artistic  and  not  merely  ethical,  will  in  Michelangelo, 
even  at  his  worst,  get  such  pleasures  as,  excepting  a  few,  others,  even  at  their 
best,  rarely  give  him. 

EUGENE    MUNTZ  'HISTOIRE     DE    l'aRT    PENDANT    LA     RENAISSANCE' 

AS  if  to  Stand  in  living  antithesis.  Destiny  placed  Michelangelo  and  Ra- 
,■  phael  together  on  the  threshold  of  a  new  era  in  art  —  the  latter  to  die 
before  he  had  been  able  to  give  the  full  measure  of  his  genius,  the  former  to 
bridge  generations  with  his  tireless  activity. 

Before  Michelangelo's  advent,  art,  trammelled  by  the  timidity  and  hesi- 
tations of  the  Primitives,  had  advanced  slowly,  never  falling  back,  it  is  true, 
but  scrupulous  and  self-mistrustful,  feeling  its  way  tentatively  and  with  de- 
liberation, and  always  leaving  some  newly  discovered  problem  for  solution 
by  those  who  should  follow. 

Then,  sudden  as  a  thunder-clap,  came  Michelangelo,  and  struck  into  life 
^  the  frescos  of  the  Sistine,  the  '  Bound  Captives  '  of  the  Louvre,  the  '  Moses,' 
and  the  tombs  of  the  Medici  —  and  three  great  arts  were  definitely  en- 
franchised !  In  these  unheralded  masterpieces  he  had  proclaimed  and  illus- 
trated unlimited  liberty  of  expression,  absolute  liberty  of  movement  and 
attitude,  and  the  expression  of  a  whole  world  of  uplifting  sentiments, —  maj- 
esty, pride,  melancholy,  terror,  justice, —  all  with  a  maximum  of  intensity 
which  no  one  since  has  been  able  to  approach. 

Such  was  Michelangelo's  role  in  the  evolution  of  the  Renaissance.  —  from 

THE  FRENCH. 


i  c  f)  c  I  a  n  g  c  I  0  29 

HEINRICH     WOLFFLIN  'DIE    K  L  A  SSISC  H  F.    K  U  N  ST  ' 

LIKE  a  mighty  mountain  torrent,  enriching  and  devastating  at  the  same 
J  time,  did  the  appearance  of  Michelangelo  affect  Italian  art.  Irresistible 
in  his  force,  carrying  all  along  with  him,  he  became  a  deliverer  to  a  'i^sN  — 
a  destroyer  to  many. 

From  the  very  beginning  Michelangelo  was  a  distinct  personality,  almost 
fearful  in  his  one-sidedness.  He  grasped  life  as  a  sculptor,  and  only  as  a 
sculptor.  What  interested  him  was  the  solid  form,  and  to  him  the  human 
body  was  alone  worthy  of  being  represented.  His  type  of  man  was  not  that 
of  this  earth,  but  rather  of  a  race  by  itself,  gigantic  and  powerful.  In  the 
strength  of  his  delineation  of  form  and  in  the  clearness  of  his  conception  he 
is  entirely  beyond  comparison.  No  experiments,  no  tentative  efforts;  with 
the  first  stroke  he  gives  the  definite  expression.  We  find  in  his  drawings 
a  profoundly  penetrating  quality.  The  internal  structure,  the  mechanical 
movements  of  the  body,  are  so  rendered  as  to  be  full  of  expression  even  to 
the  smallest  detail.  Each  turn,  each  bend  of  the  limbs,  shows  a  secret 
power.  There  is  an  incomprehensible  force  even  in  the  exaggerations,  and 
so  great  is  the  impression  produced  that  it  does  not  occur  to  us  to  criticise. 
It  was  characteristic  of  the  master  to  exercise  his  talent  ruthlessly  for  the 
sake  of  producing  the  utmost  possible  effect. 

Michelangelo  enriched  art  with  new  and  hitherto  undreamed-of  qualities, 
but  at  the  same  time  he  impoverished  it  by  taking  from  it  all  delight  in 
simple,  every-day  subjects,  and  he  it  was  who  brought  about  a  dissonance  in 
the  Renaissance,  and  prepared  the  way  for  a  new  style, — the  barocco.  .  .  . 
No  one,  however,  should  hold  Michelangelo  responsible  for  the  fate  of  Italian 
art.  He  was  as  he  had  to  be,  and  he  will  always  remain  supremely  great. 
But  the  effect  that  he  produced  was  indeed  disastrous,  for  all  beauty  came  to 
be  measured  by  the  standard  of  his  works,  and  an  art  brought  into  the  world 
under  peculiarly  individual  conditions  became  universal.  —  from  the  Ger- 
man. 


E.    H.    AND   E.    W.    BLASHFIELD   AND   A.    A.    HOPKINS,    EDITORS  <VASARI'S    LIVES' 

THE  personality  of  Michelangelo  is  so  tremendous,  he  is  so  different 
from  all  other  artists  who  have  gone  before,  or  come  after  him,  that 
when  the  critic  is  called  upon  to  place  this  sculptor,  painter,  architect,  in  the 
long  series  of  Italian  artists,  his  formidable  figure  starts  forth  from  the  frame 
and  will  not  be  fitted  to  any  usual  environment.  But  the  more  Michelangelo 
is  studied  the  more  this  "  man  with  four  souls  "  is  seen  to  have  been  in  his 
central  artistic  consciousness  a  sculptor;  moreover,  —  we  have  the  word  of 
another  sculptor  for  it,  —  this  autocratically  personal  artist  underwent  the 
gradual  evolution  of  a  sculptor.  Though  he  so  impressed  his  own  character 
upon  his  own  style  that,  once  formed,  it  was  perhaps  more  completely  s'd 
generis  than  that  of  any  artist  who  has  lived,  yet  he  did  form  it ;  he  felt  the 
influence  of  antiquity  in  the  Medici  gardens,  and  in  his  first  visit  to  Rome 
he  felt,  too,  the  influence  of  predecessors,  and  vibrated  instinctively  to  the 


30  jma^terjBfin^rt 

quality  of  force  in  others,  —  grave  force  in  Giotto,  rude  force  in  Delia 
Querela,  feverishly  vital  force  in  Donatello,  violent  force  in  Signorelli.  He 
became  the  disciple  of  Savonarola,  the  spiritual  brother  of  Dante,  the  inter- 
preter of  the  Hebrew  prophets  ;  he  lived  among  Titans,  and  his  creations 
were  Promethean  ;  man  and  man's  body  alone  in  nature  interested  him  ; 
and  the  body  used  as  the  material  for  the  expression  of  his  thought  became 
colossal  to  suit  that  thought  whose  purpose  was  to  picture  the  creation,  the 
promise  of  redemption,  and  the  wrath  to  come. 

The  work  of  Michelangelo  may  be  broadly  divided  into  three  periods. 
His  youthful  period  included  the  creation  of  the  '  Bacchus,'  the  South  Ken- 
sington '  Cupid '  (ApoUino  ?),  the  'Adonis,'  the  two  Madonne  in  tondo,  the 
'  Madonna  of  Bruges,'  and  ended  with  the  execution  of  the  colossal  '  David  ' 
and  of  the  '  Pieta,'  —  which  showed  Michelangelo  at  the  age  of  twenty-four  to 
be  the  greatest  sculptor  in  Europe, —  and  the  cartoon  (  'Bathing  Soldiers'), 
which  proclaimed  him  the  greatest  draughtsman.  His  second  period  was  that 
epoch  of  tremendous  gestation  which  witnessed  the  birth  of  the  most  potent, 
fascinating,  and  dominating  painting  and  sculpture  the  world  had  seen  for 
eighteen  hundred  years,  work  which  warped  the  talent  of  a  generation  of  artists, 
—  the  frescos  of  the  Sistine  Chapel  and  the  sculptures  of  the  Medici  tombs 
in  the  Sacristy  of  San  Lorenzo.  To  the  army  of  Titans  of  the  vaulting  and 
the  seven  colossal  shapes  of  San  Lorenzo  must  be  added  the  '  Moses  '  and 
the  so-called  'Captives'  of  the  Louvre.  His  style  was  determined  and  had 
reached  its  highest  point.  His  final  period  as  painter  and  sculptor  included 
the  '  Last  Judgment,'  the  frescos  of  the  Pauline  Chapel,  and  the  '  Pieta,'  or 
'  Descent  from  the  Cross,'  of  the  Duomo  of  Florence.  After  the  execution 
of  this  latter  work  the  sculptor-painter  became  architect  and  poet,  and  laid 
aside  brush  and  chisel  forever. 

The  achievement  of  Michelangelo,  phenomenal  in  its  strength  and  depth, 
may  yet  be  followed  by  its  development.  Even  his  very  early  work,  the 
'Sleeping  Cupid,'  was  (if  we  may  believe  Vasari)  the  marvellously  preco- 
cious work  of  one  who  had  quickly  learned  the  lesson  of  Greek  antiquity. 
When  he  was  but  twenty-four  years  old  he  had  passed  onward  to  a  style  of 
his  own,  and,  in  the  execution  of  the  'Pieta,'  of  a  science  which  looked 
back  upon  the  art  of  the  Quattrocento  and  forward  beyond  anything  that, 
save  from  his  own  chisel,  we  have  had  since.  His  '  David,'  called  by  the 
sculptor-critic,  M.  Guillaume,  his  ''chef-d'ceuvj-e  de  ma'itrise,'"  is  yet  a  youth- 
ful work  in  its  fault  of  choice,  the  selection  of  a  stripling  that  should  become 
a  colossus.  In  his  '  Bathing  Soldiers  '  he  relinquished  for  a  time  his  terrihilitay 
which,  hinted  at  in  the  '  Pieta,'  was  seen  in  the  '  David  ;  '  and  in  that  world- 
famous  cartoon  he  produced  (this  much  can  be  told  even  from  the  flotsam 
that  has  reached  us)  the  very  ultimate  expression  of  the  academy  drawing, 
the  perfect  examples  which  set  all  young  Italy,  crayon  and  portfolio  in  hand, 
to  copying  in  the  hall  of  the  Medici  Palace. 

Upon  the  upper  vaulting  of  the  Sistine  Chapel  Michelangelo  next  rose  (in 
spite  of  what  Cellini  has  told  us)  far  above  his  figures  of  the  cartoon,  and  yet 
here  the  departure  from  nature  began;  but  here,  too,  commenced  that  use  of 


icfjclangclo  31 

his  knowledge  of  nature  for  the  expression  of  a  spiritual  thought  so'  great  as 
to  pass,  says  Symonds,  beyond  the  comprehension  of  his  contemporaries,  who 
still  worshipped  the  naturalistic  perfection  of  the  cartoon  of  the  'Bathing 
Soldiers.'  By  regular  progression  this  departure  from  nature  continued,  as 
Michelangelo  passed  down  the  vaulting  of  the  Sistine  Chapel;  it  is  seen  in 
the  '  Persic  Sibyl '  and  in  the  huge  Prophets  more  than  in  the  Adam  and 
Eve  above.  It  is  shown  more  plainly  in  the  'Last  Judgment;'  here  knowl- 
edge and  mannerism  are  perilously  near  each  other;  at  last,  in  the  Pauline 
Chapel,  mannerism  has  full  possession  of  the  field.  Between  the  Sistine 
frescos  and  the  '  Last  Judgment,'  at  the  time  of  Michelangelo's  best  technical 
and  spiritual  creativencss,  he  gave  to  the  world  the  second  of  his  great 
ensembles,  his  completest  expression  in  sculpture,  the  seven  statues  of  the 
Sacristy  of  San  Lorenzo, 

In  the  technical  achievement  of  Michelangelo  nothing  has  made  his  work 
more  fascinating,  more  personal,  than  his  application  (^emphasized  so  felici- 
tously and  authoritatively  by  M.  Eugene  Guillaume)  of  sculptural  qualities  in 
his  painting,  of  pictorial  qualities  in  his  sculpture.  The  isolation,  relief,  self- 
contained  and  statue-like  character  of  his  Prophets  and  Sibyls  in  the  Sistine 
Chapel  is  not  more  noticeable  than  the  surface  treatment  of  the  marble  in  his 
Medici  statues;  portions  polished  here,  portions  left  in  the  rough  there, 
enhancing  each  other,  giving  color,  making  the  stone  live;  and  again  his  use 
of  light  and  shadow  upon  these  same  rough  or  polished  spaces,  most  of  all 
upon  his  masses — witness  the  casqued  face  of  his  'Pensieroso.'  It  is  easy, 
where  all  is  so  individual,  to  point  out  idiosyncrasies  which  become  indifference 
or  exaggeration  in  the  artist,  but  by  this  very  indifi^erence  or  exaggeration 
Michelangelo  produced  the  effect  which  he  sought  for.  It  is  easy  to  say  that 
he  eschewed  naturalism  in  its  ordinary  sense,  though  few  naturalistic  artists 
have  studied  the  body  more  conscientiously,  or  to  see  that  he  disdained  the 
portrait. 

In  these  same  figures  of  the  Sistine  and  San  Lorenzo  we  may  note  the 
master's  bias  as  to  physical  type :  the  small  head,  the  huge  thorax,  the  tendency 
to  turn  the  latter  to  one  side,  while  the  legs,  reversing  the  movement,  are 
turned  to  the  other,  the  pelvis  becoming  the  pivot,  and  the  abdominal  and 
stomach  muscles  especially  testifying  to  the  science  of  the  artist.  The  hips 
are  narrow,  the  thighs  powerful,  and  in  many  of  his  seated  figures  of  the  Sistine 
Michelangelo  liked  to  foreshorten  the  legs  from  the  knees  down  till  thev  seem 
almost  dissimulated  bv  pose  and  shadow.  We  come  to  the  head  last  of  all,  and 
it  apparently  was  what  came  last  in  the  sculptor's  thought.  At  Oxford  there 
is  a  sheet  covered  with  drawings  in  red  chalk,  of  profile  or  three-quarter  heads, 
by  Michelangelo.  They  are  what  a  modern  student  would  call  "chic" 
heads;  that  is  to  say,  they  are  such  profiles  as  the  artist  would  draw  without 
the  model  (or  using  the  model,  if  at  all,  only  as  a  suggestion  of  the  broad  rela- 
tions of  light  and  mass),  varying  each  head  a  little  from  the  other,  making  this 
one  a  caricature,  that  one  almost  antique  in  its  outlines.  Anton  Springer  is 
perhaps  the  only  critic  who  has  pointed  out  how  stronglv  Leonardo  has  influ- 
enced Buonarroti  in   such  work.    These  heads  are  neither  beautiful,  deli- 


32  ima^tcr^tn^rt 


cate,  nor  subtle,  yet  in  them  can  be  found  the  characteristics  of  the  type  which 
includes  the  heads  of  all  Michelangelo's  most  famous  statues — the  high- 
bridged  nose  with  its  depressed  end,  the  hollow  between  the  chin  and  jaw,  the 
flattening  of  the  end  of  the  chin,  the  horizontal  depression  running  in  Greek 
fashion  across  the  middle  of  the  forehead.  Make  them  finer,  subtler,  more 
real  in  every  way,  and  from  three  of  these  heads  you  might  evolve  many  of 
Michelangelo's  ;  for  though  no  man  differed  more  from  other  men,  no  one 
adhered  more  faithfully  to  the  type  which  he  had  selected.  The  heavy  slumber- 
ing features  of  the  'Night'  proclaim  her,  nevertheless,  own  sister  to  the  strong 
yet  alert-faced  duke  who  sits  above;  even  the  strange  "goat-face"  of  the 
'Moses'  is  but  an  exaggeration  of  the  nose  and  forehead  which  the  sculptor 
carved  almost  instinctively.  The  'Adonis,'  the 'Dawn,'  the 'Madonna  of 
Bruges,'  the  noble  Madonna  of  the  Roman  'Pieta,'  all  share  the  same  facial 
construction. 

Besides  type,  proportion,  modelling,  movement,  common  to  Buonarroti 
as  painter  and  sculptor,  we  have  also  to  consider  the  purely  pictorial  quality 
of  color.  His  color  is  known  only  by  the  vaulting  frescos  of  the  Sistine, 
since  the  '  Last  Judgment '  has  suffered  too  greatly  to  afford  us  any  data.  In 
this  vast  decorative  ensemble  of  the  chapel  vaulting  Michelangelo's  intense 
sense  of  dignity  has  saved  him,  in  spite  of  inexperience,  or  of  inherited  Flor- 
entine tendencies,  from  the  slightest  triviality  of  juxtaposition  of  gaily  va- 
ried tones,  or  from  hardness  ;  the  color-scheme  is  as  measured,  restrained, 
perfectly  fitting,  as  if  Leonardo  and  Andrea  del  Sarto  had  stood  at  either 
elbow  ;  and  the  sculptor,  in  his  first  great  essay  with  pigments,  models  del- 
icately in  a  tonality  which,  though  sober,  is  neither  heavy  nor  muddy. 

In  composition  Michelangelo  differed  widely  from  his  great  rival,  Raphael, 
and  much  in  the  same  way  as  he  differed  from  him  in  his  attitude  toward 
those  about  him.  Raphael's  relations  with  all  men  were  harmonious,  and  in 
his  pictures  each  figure,  too,  was  harmoniously  related  to  every  other.  To 
Michelangelo  it  was  as  hard  to  make  his  figures  accord  with  each  other  as 
it  was  for  him  personally  to  accord  with  his  fellows.  As  artist  he  was  spir- 
itually and  creatively  autonomous  ;  his  figures  are  autonomous,  and  every 
one  is  sufficient  to  itself,  as  is  a  detached  statue.  Often  Michelangelo's 
groups  are  not  ill-composed,  but  there  is  no  such  relation  between  the  parts 
of  the  composition  as  with  Raphael,  Titian,  or  Veronese.  Each  figure  has 
plenty  of  harmony  within  itself,  between  its  own  proportions  and  parts,  but 
it  is  centralized  harmony.  Take,  for  instance,  the  '  Last  Judgment ; '  the 
groups  are  so  many  masses  arranged  symmetrically,  one  group  balancing  an- 
other as  a  mass  ;  but  once  within  these  masses  each  figure  seems  to  be  thought 
of  for  itself  only,  as  if  this  tremendously  personal  artist  could  not  bear  the 
yoke  even  of  his  own  creations,  and  must  know  each  artistic  thought  as  in- 
dependent and  subject  only  to  itself.  Even  in  a  great  architectonic  distribu- 
tion, where  the  artist  is  successful  and  deeply  impressive,  as  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  Sistine  vaulting,  he  still  refuses  to  in  any  way  co-ordinate  his 
decorative  scheme  with  that  of  the  men  who  had  gone  before  him  and  had 
painted  the  lower  walls. 


xtJ)clangelo  ^3 

There  are  many  to  whom  Michelangelo's  art  stands  first  and  last  for  ex- 
aggeration ;  they  say  that  they  cannot  admire  him  because  of  the  huge  mus- 
cles which  he  gives  to  his  people  ;  this  is  largely  because  the  exaggeration, 
which  upon  the  vaulting  of  the  Sistine  was  full  of  meaning,  became  mean- 
ingless in  the  work  of  an  army  of  followers.  The  very  volume  of  this  work 
so  impresses  on-lookers  of  to-day  that  they  forget  that  Michelangelo's  force 
was  not  material  alone,  but  spiritual  as  well.  Let  his  censors  set  aside  the 
*  Last  Judgment  '  and  the  Pauline  frescos,  the  works  of  his  old  age,  and 
they  will  find  that  in  the  infinite  strength  of  his  '  Night '  and  '  Twilight,'  his 
'Adam'  and  his  '  Moses,'  there  is  also  infinite  delicacy,  infinite  subtlety. 

His  influence  upon  the  art  of  his  time  was  in  many  senses  most  unfor- 
tunate ;  but  he  did  not  cause  the  decline  of  Italian  art,  he  only  precipitated 
it ;   Italian  art  decayed  because  it  bloomed. 

He  possessed  the  most  wonderful  technique  of  his  time,  but  what  impresses 
far  more  than  his  technique  is  his  spirit.  Vittoria  Colonna  said  rightly  that 
what  was  in  Michelangelo's  work  was  as  little  beside  what  was  in  his  soul. 
From  the  time  that  he  finished  the  '  David  '  and  the  cartoon  of  the  '  Bathing 
Soldiers  '  began  a  period  of  eternal  struggle  with  his  own  art,  of  disdain  for 
that  of  others.  In  all  that  he  did  was  seen  a  mighty  force,  struggling,  En- 
celadus-like,  to  upheave,  as  if  he  felt  that  every  creature  which  came  from 
his  brush  or  chisel  needed  its  giant  shoulders  to  support  the  burden  of  man's 
fate.  In  its  supreme  technique  his  achievement  became  all-powerful,  the 
tyrant  of  sixteenth-century  art ;  but  in  his  spirit  as  artist  in  his  ceaseless 
struggle  against  human  limitations,  Michelangelo  the  man  is  an  incarnate 
protest. 


JOHN    ADDINGTON    SYMONDS  'LIFE    OF    MICHELANGELO    BUONARROTI" 

MICHELANGELO,  as  Carlyle  might  have  put  it,  is  the  Hero  as  Artist. 
When  we  have  admitted  this,  all  dregs  and  sediments  of  the  analytical 
alembic  sink  to  the  bottom,  leaving  a  clear  crystalline  elixir  of  the  spirit.  About 
the  quality  of  his  genius  opinions  may,  will,  and  ought  to  differ.  It  is  so  pro- 
nounced, so  peculiar,  so  repulsive  to  one  man,  so  attractive  to  another,  that, 
like  his  own  dread  statue  of  Lorenzo  de  Medici,  "it  fascinates  and  is  intoler- 
able." There  are  few,  I  take  it,  who  can  feel  at  home  with  him  in  all  the 
length  and  breadth  and  dark  depths  of  the  regions  that  he  traversed.  The 
world  of  thoughts  and  forms  in  which  he  lived  habitually  is  too  arid,  like  an 
extinct  planet,  tenanted  by  mighty  elemental  beings  with  little  human  left  to 
them  but  visionary  Titan-shapes,  too  vast  and  void  for  common  minds  to  dwell 
in  pleasurably.  The  sweetness  that  emerges  from  his  strength,  the  beauty 
which  blooms  rarely,  strangely,  in  unhomely  wise,  upon  the  awful  crowd  of 
his  conceptions,  are  only  to  be  apprehended  by  some  innate  sympathy  or  by 
long  incubation  of  the  brooding  intellect.  It  is  probable,  therefore,  that  the 
deathless  artist  through  long  centuries  of  glory  will  abide  as  solitary  as  the 
simple  old  man  did  in  his  poor  house  at  Rome.  But  no  one,  not  the  dullest, 
not  the  weakest,  not  the  laziest  and  lustfullest,  not  the  most  indiff'erent  to 


34  jWa^tcr^in^rt 


ideas  or  the  most  tolerant  of  platitudes  and  paradoxes,  can  pass  him  by  with- 
out being  arrested,  quickened,  stung, purged,  stirred  to  uneasy  self-examination 
bv  so  strange  a  personality  expressed  in  prophecies  of  art  so  pungent. 


%f)t  Wotk^  of  iEtc|)elangelo 

DESCRIPTIONS    OF    THE    PLATES 
HOLY    FAMILY  UFFIZI    GALLERY:     FLORENCE 

THIS  work,  executed  about  the  year  1503  for  Angelo  Doni,  of  Florence, 
is  the  only  finished  easel  picture  which  can  without  question  be  attrib- 
uted to  Michelangelo.  It  is,  as  the  recent  editors  of  Vasari  have  said, 
"rather  a  colored  cartoon  than  a  painting,  hard  and  dry  and  disagreeable,  yet 
full  of  the  power  of  Michelangelo,  magnificently  drawn,  having  decorative 
beauty  in  the  composition  of  its  lines,  and  impressing,  by  its  force,  its  origi- 
nality, and  its  diff^erence  from  other  artists'  conceptions  of  the  same  subject." 
"Michelangelo's  love  of  restless  and  somewhat  strained  actions,"  writes 
Sidney  Colvin,  "is  illustrated  by  the  introduction  (wherein  he  follows  Luca 
Signorelli)  of  some  otherwise  purposeless  undraped  figures  in  the  background." 
Springer  calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  these  figures  are  not  the  only  evidence 
of  the  plastic  character  of  the  picture.  "The  whole  work,"  he  says,  "is  full 
of  it,  showing  how  decidedly  the  artist's  mind  turned  to  finely  drawn  and  well 
modelled  forms.  The  color,  in  the  upper  part  of  the  Madonna's  robe  reddish, 
in  the  lower  part  blue,  in  Joseph's  dress  bluish-gray  above  and  orange 
below,  and  in  the  flesh  scarcely  more  than  a  prevailing  brownish  tone,  serves 
to  emphasize  the  light  and  shade,  to  round  the  surfaces  and  give  prominence 
to  the  limbs,  but  is  used  only  as  a  secondary  means  of  expression." 

SISTINE    CHAPEL  VATICAN:     ROME 

THE  Sistine  Chapel  was  built  by  Baccio  Pintelli,  a  Florentine  architect, 
in  the  year  147  3,  for  Pope  Sixtus  IV.  It  is  oblong  in  shape,  and  is 
lighted  by  twelve  round-arched  windows,  six  on  either  side.  Two  painted 
windows  are  at  the  entrance  end,  and  upon  the  clear  wall  above  the  altar  at 
the  opposite  end  is  Michelangelo's  fresco  of  the  '  Last  Judgment.'  The  side 
walls  of  this  celebrated  chapel  are  decorated  in  fresco  with  scenes  from  the 
life  of  Moses  and  of  Christ  by  Perugino,  Pinturicchio,  Signorelli,  Botticelli, 
Ghirlandajo,  and  Cosimo  Rosselli.  In  the  year  1508  Michelangelo  was 
called  upon  by  Pope  Julius  II.  to  decorate  the  ceiling,  and  in  spite  of  re- 
monstrance on  the  part  of  the  artist,  who  declared  that  painting  was  not  his 
trade,  in  that  same  year  the  task  was  begun. 

"  Destiny  so  ruled,"  writes  Sidney  Colvin,  "  that  the  work  thus  thrust 
upon  him  remains  his  chief  title  to  glory.  His  history  is  one  of  indomitable 
will  and  almost  superhuman  energy,  yet  of  will  that  hardly  ever  had  its  way. 


jHicljelaugclo  35 

and  of  energy  continually  at  war  with  circumstance.  The  only  thing  which 
in  all  his  life  he  was  able  to  complete  as  he  had  conceived  it  was  this  of  the 
decoration  of  the  Sistine  ceiling.  The  pope  had  at  first  proposed  a  scheme 
including  figures  of  the  twelve  apostles  only.  Michelangelo  would  be  con- 
tent with  nought  so  meagre,  and  furnished  instead  a  design  of  many  hun- 
dred figures,  embodying  all  the  history  of  creation  and  of  the  first  patriarchs, 
with  accessory  personages  of  prophets  and  sibyls  dreaming  on  the  new  dis- 
pensation to  come,  and,  in  addition,  those  of  the  forefathers  of  Christ.  The 
whole  was  to  be  enclosed  and  divided  by  an  elaborate  frame-work  of  painted 
architecture,  with  a  multitude  of  nameless  human  shapes  supporting  its  sev- 
eral members  or  reposing  among  them,  —  shapes  meditating,  as  it  were,  be- 
tween the  features  of  the  inanimate  frame-work  and  those  of  the  great  dra- 
matic and  prophetic  scenes  themselves.  Michelangelo's  work  was  accepted 
by  the  pope,  and  by  May,  1508,  his  preparations  for  its  execution  were 
made.  Later  in  the  same  year  he  summoned  a  number  of  assistant  painters 
from  Florence.  Trained  in  the  traditions  of  the  earlier  Florentine  school,  they 
were  unable,  it  seems,  to  interpret  Michelangelo's  designs  in  fresco  either 
with  sufficient  freedom  or  sufficient  uniformity  of  style  to  satisfy  him.  At 
any  rate,  he  soon  dismissed  them,  and  carried  out  the  remainder  of  his  co- 
lossal task  alone,  except  for  the  necessary  amount  of  purely  mechanical  and 
subordinate  help.  The  physical  conditions  of  prolonged  work,  face  upwards, 
upon  this  vast  expanse  of  ceiling  were  adverse  and  trying  in  the  extreme. 
But  after  four  and  a  half  years  of  toil  the  task  was  accomplished.  Michel- 
angelo had  during  its  progress  been  harassed  alike  by  delays  of  payment  and 
by  hostile  intrigue.  His  ill-wishers  at  the  same  time  kept  casting  doubts  of  his 
capacity,  and  vaunting  the  superior  powers  of  Raphael.  That  gentle  spirit 
would  by  nature  have  been  no  man's  enemy,  but  unluckily  Michelangelo's 
moody,  self-concentrated  temper  prevented  the  two  artists  being  on  terms 
of  amity  such  as  might  have  stopped  the  mouths  of  mischief-makers.  Once 
during  the  progress  of  his  task  Michelangelo  was  compelled  to  remove  a  por- 
tion of  the  scaffolding  and  exhibit  what  had  been  so  far  done,  when  the  effect 
alike  upon  friends  and  detractors  was  overwhelming.  Still  more  complete 
was  his  triumph  when,  late  in  the  autumn  of  1512,  the  whole  of  his  vast 
achievement  was  disclosed  to  view." 

"  Entering  the  Sistine  Chapel,"  writes  Symonds,  "  and  raising  our  eyes 
to  sweep  the  roof,  we  have  above  us  a  long  and  somewhat  narrow  oblong 
space,  vaulted  with  round  arches,  and  covered  from  end  to  end,  from  side  to 
side,  with  a  network  of  human  forms.  The  whole  is  colored  like  the  dusky, 
tawny,  bluish  clouds  of  thunder-storms.  There  is  no  luxury  of  decorative 
art  —  no  gold,  no  paint-box  of  vermilion  or  emerald  green,  has  been  lavished 
here.  Sombre  and  aerial,  like  shapes  condensed  from  vapor,  or  dreams  be- 
gotten by  Ixion  upon  mists  of  eve  or  dawn,  the  phantoms  evoked  by  the 
sculptor  throng  that  space." 

The  ceiling  of  the  chapel  —  some  ten  thousand  square  feet  in  area  — 
forms  a  flattened  arch,  of  which  the  central  portion,  an  oblong,  flat  surface, 
is  divided  into  nine  sections,  four  larger  alternating  with  five  smaller  ones. 


36  Ma^ttt^in^tt 


The  subjects  depicted  in  these  are,  reckoning  from  the  altar-end,  over  which 
is  the  figure  of  the  prophet  Jonah  (see  design),  (1)  '  The  Separation  of  Light 
and  Darkness,'  (2) 'The  Creation  of  the  Sun  and  Moon'  (Plate  ii),  (3) 
'The  Creation  of  Vegetable  Life,'  (4)  'The  Creation  of  Man'  (Plate  iiij, 
(5)  'The  Creation  of  Woman,'  (6)  'The  Temptation  and  Expulsion' 
(Plate  IV),  (7)  'The  Sacrifice  of  Noah,'  (8)  'The  Deluge,'  and  (9)  'The 
Drunkenness  of  Noah.'  Outside  of  this  central  panel,  and  on  either  side  of 
those  subjects  denoted  above  as  numbers  1,  3,  5,  and  7,  are  seated  alternate, 
colossal  figures  of  prophets  and  sibyls,  foretellers  of  the  coming  of  the 
Saviour,  and  at  each  end  of  the  central  panel  are  the  figures  of  two  other 
prophets,  —  at  one  end  Zachariah,  at  the  other  Jonah.  "Michelangelo's 
prophets,"  writes  Kugler,  "  embody  the  highest  ideas  of  inspiration,  medita- 
tion, and  prophetic  woe.  Jeremiah  may  be  singled  out  as  their  grandest 
personification  "  (Plate  v).  In  the  triangular  spaces  at  the  four  corners  of 
the  ceiling  are  depicted  the  '  Brazen  Serpent,'  the  '  Punishment  of  Haman,' 
'  David  and  Goliath,'  and  'Judith  and  Holofernes.'  In  the  twelve  lunettes 
above  the  windows,  and  in  the  twelve  triangular  vaulted  spaces  over  them, 
are  groups  of  figures  known  as  the  'Ancestors  of  the  Virgin,'  On  project- 
ing parts  of  a  painted  simulated  cornice  which  surrounds  the  great  panel  in 
the  centre  of  the  ceiling  are  seated,  in  pairs,  twenty  nude,  decorative  figures, 
each  pair  holding  ribbons  which  support  medallions.  Among  the  creations 
of  Michelangelo  none  are  more  beautiful  than  these  seated  youths  (Plate  ix). 
"  Equally  distinct  from  modern  character,  or  from  reminiscence  of  the  an- 
tique," says  Kugler,  "  these  figures,  like  the  Sibyls,  are  a  new  race." 

Including  the  nameless  and  subordinate  figures  too  numerous  to  mention 
here,  it  has  been  estimated  that  there  are  in  the  vaulting  of  the  Sistine  Chapel 
three  hundred  and  forty-three  figures.  Of  these  more  than  two  hundred  are 
important,  and  many  are  in  size  colossal. 

"  If  we  consider  the  painting  of  the  Sistine  ceiling  simply  as  a  work  of 
art,"  write  the  recent  editors  of  'Vasari's  Lives,'  "nothing  in  the  history  of 
painting  equals  the  boldness  and  the  grandeur  of  this  decoration  in  its  en- 
tiretv.  If  we  think  of  it  as  the  intellectual  conception  and  physical  achieve- 
ment of  one  man,  it  is  equally  tremendous.  If  we  consider  it  only  architec- 
tonically, and  in  reference  to  the  principles  and  laws  of  decoration,  a  wholly 
diiTerent  ground  may  be  taken  by  the  critic  ;  here  Michelangelo's  painted 
architecture  and  arrangement,  as  Symonds  has  said,  'bordered  dangerously 
upon  the  barocco  style,  and  contained  within  itself  the  germs  of  a  vicious 
mannerism,'  but  the  arrangement  is  frankly  chosen,  and  frankly  adhered  to, 
and  there  is  no  loss  of  dignity  anywhere  from  tricks  of  perspective  fore- 
shortening." 

Sidney  Colvin  writes  :  "  The  work  represents  all  the  powers  of  Michel- 
angelo at  their  best.  His  sublimity,  often  in  excess  of  the  occasion,  is  here 
no  more  than  equal  to  it ;  moreover,  it  is  combined  with  the  noblest  ele- 
ments of  grace,  and  even  of  tenderness.  Whatever  the  soul  of  this  great 
Florentine,  the  spiritual  heir  of  Dante,  with  the  Christianity  of  the  Middle 
Age  not  shaken  in  his  mind,  but  expanded  and  transcendentalized  by  the 


^^M 


1)i:sic;n-  hf  tiik  ckii.im'.  nv  thk  sistixk  iuiapki. 


knowledge  and  love  of  Plato,  —  whatever  the  soul  of  such  a  man,  full  of 
suppressed  tenderness  and  righteous  indignation,  and  of  anxious  questionings 
of  coming  fate,  could  conceive,  that  Michelangelo  has  expressed  or  shadowed 
forth  in  this  great  and  significant  scheme  of  paintings." 

• 
LAST    JUDGMENT  SISTINE    CHAPEL:     ROME 

IN  a  brief  issued  by  Pope  Paul  III.,  September  1,  1535,  appointing  Michel- 
angelo chief  architect,  sculptor,  and  painter  at  the  Vatican,  allusion  is  made 
to  the  fresco  of  the  'Last  Judgment,'  which  was  therefore  probably  begun 
about  this  time,  although  the  cartoon  for  the  work  had  been  made  the  year 
before,  during  the  lifetime  of  Clement  VII.,  from  whom  Michelangelo  had 
received  the  original  commission.  The  great  fresco  was  completed  in  1541, 
and  shown  to  the  public  on  Christmas  day  of  that  year.  It  measures  fifty-four 
feet  six  inches  in  height  by  forty-three  feet  eight  inches  in  width,  and  occupies 
the  end  wall-space  above  the  altar  in  the  Sistine  Chapel — a  space  which  had 
previously  been  decorated  with  frescos  by  Perugino. 

Vasari  tells  us  that  when  Michelangelo  had  almost  finished  the  work.  Pope 
Paul  went  to  see  it,  accompanied  by  Messer  Biagio  da  Cesena,  his  master  of 
ceremonies,  and  that  the  latter,  being  asked  his  opinion  of  it,  found  fault  with 
the  nude  figures  introduced  into  the  composition.  "Displeased  by  his 
remarks,"  says  Vasari,  "Michelangelo  resolved  to  be  avenged;  and  Messer 
Biagio  had  no  sooner  departed  than  our  artist  drew  his  portrait  from  memory, 
and  placed  him  in  hell,  under  the  figure  of  Minos,  with  a  great  serpent  wound 
around  him,  and  standing  in  the  midst  of  a  troop  of  devils :  nor  did  the  entreaties 
of  Messer  Biagio  to  the  pope  and  Michelangelo,  that  this  portrait  might  be 
removed,  suffice  to  prevail  on  the  master  to  consent ;  it  was  left  as  first  depicted, 
a  memorial  of  that  event,  and  may  still  be  seen."  It  is  said  that  when  Messer 
Biagio  complained  to  the  pope,  Paul  assured  him  that  he  could  do  nothing. 
"Had  the  painter  sent  thee  to  purgatory,"  said  his  Holiness,  "I  would  have 
used  my  best  efforts  to  release  thee;  but  since  he  hath  sent  thee  to  hell,  it  is 
useless  to  come  to  me,  as  I  have  no  power  there." 

After  the  accession  of  Paul  IV.  it  was  arranged  that  the  painter  Daniele 
da  Volterra  should  add  draperies  to  some  of  the  figures,  whereby  he  earned 
the  title  of  "  il  Braghettone,"  the  breeches-maker.  In  1566  the  fresco  was 
again  retouched,  and  still  later,  in  1762,  more  draperies  were  added,  probably 
by  Stefano  Pozzi. 

"Time,  negligence,  and  outrage,"  writes  Symonds,  "the  dust  of  centuries, 
the  burned  papers  of  successive  conclaves,  the  smoke  of  altar-candles,  the 
hammers  and  the  hangings  of  uphoJsterers,  the  brush  of  the  breeches-maker 
and  restorer,  have  so  dealt  with  the  'Last  Judgment'  that  it  is  almost  impos- 
sible to  do  it  justice  now.  What  Michelangelo  intended  by  his  scheme  of 
color  is  entirely  lost.  Not  only  did  Daniele  da  Volterra,  an  execrable  colorist, 
dab  vividly  tinted  patches  upon  the  modulated  harmonies  of  the  flesh-tones 
painted  by  the  master,  but  the  whole  surface  has  sunk  into  a  bluish  fog,  deepen- 
ing to  something  like  lampblack  around  the  altar.  Nevertheless,  in  its  compo- 
sition the  fresco  may  still  be  studied,  and  we  are  not  unable  to  understand  the 


icl^clangelo  37 

knowledge  and  love  of  Plato,  —  whatever  the  soul  of  such  a  man,  full  of 
suppressed  tenderness  and  righteous  indignation,  and  of  anxious  questionings 
of  coming  fate,  could  conceive,  that  Michelangelo  has  expressed  or  shadowed 
forth  in  this  great  and  significant  scheme  of  paintings." 

LAST    JUDGMENT  SISTINE    CHAPEL:     ROME 

IN  a  brief  issued  by  Pope  Paul  III.,  September  1,  153  5,  appointing  Michel- 
angelo chief  architect,  sculptor,  and  painter  at  the  Vatican,  allusion  is  made 
to  the  fresco  of  the  'Last  Judgment,'  which  was  therefore  probably  begun 
about  this  time,  although  the  cartoon  for  the  work  had  been  made  the  year 
before,  during  the  lifetime  of  Clement  VII.,  from  whom  Michelangelo  had 
received  the  original  commission.  The  great  fresco  was  completed  in  1541, 
and  shown  to  the  public  on  Christmas  day  of  that  year.  It  measures  fifty-four 
feet  six  inches  in  height  by  forty-three  feet  eight  inches  in  width,  and  occupies 
the  end  wall-space  above  the  altar  in  the  Sistine  Chapel — a  space  which  had 
previously  been  decorated  with  frescos  by  Perugino. 

Vasari  tells  us  that  when  Michelangelo  had  almost  finished  the  work,  Pope 
Paul  went  to  see  it,  accompanied  by  Messer  Biagio  da  Cesena,  his  master  of 
ceremonies,  and  that  the  latter,  being  asked  his  opinion  of  it,  found  fault  with 
the  nude  figures  introduced  into  the  composition.  "Displeased  by  his 
remarks,"  says  Vasari,  "Michelangelo  resolved  to  be  avenged;  and  Messer 
Biagio  had  no  sooner  departed  than  our  artist  drew  his  portrait  from  memory, 
and  placed  him  in  hell,  under  the  figure  of  Minos,  with  a  great  serpent  wound 
around  him,  and  standing  in  the  midst  of  a  troop  of  devils :  nor  did  the  entreaties 
of  Messer  Biagio  to  the  pope  and  Michelangelo,  that  this  portrait  might  be 
removed, suffice  to  prevail  on  the  master  to  consent;  it  was  left  as  first  depicted, 
a  memorial  of  that  event,  and  may  still  be  seen."  It  is  said  that  when  Messer 
Biagio  complained  to  the  pope,  Paul  assured  him  that  he  could  do  nothing. 
"Had  the  painter  sent  thee  to  purgatory,"  said  his  Holiness,  "I  would  have 
used  my  best  efforts  to  release  thee;  but  since  he  hath  sent  thee  to  hell,  it  is 
useless  to  come  to  me,  as  I  have  no  power  there." 

After  the  accession  of  Paul  IV.  it  was  arranged  that  the  painter  Daniele 
da  Volterra  should  add  draperies  to  some  of  the  figures,  whereby  he  earned 
the  title  of  "  il  Braghettone,"  the  breeches-maker.  In  1566  the  fresco  was 
again  retouched,  and  still  later,  in  1762,  more  draperies  were  added,  probably 
by  Stefano  Pozzi. 

"Time,  negligence,  and  outrage,"  writes  Symonds,  "the  dust  of  centuries, 
the  burned  papers  of  successive  conclaves,  the  smoke  of  altar-candles,  the 
hammers  and  the  hangings  of  uphoJsterers,  the  brush  of  the  breeches-maker 
and  restorer,  have  so  dealt  with  the  'Last  Judgment'  that  it  is  almost  impos- 
sible to  do  it  justice  now.  What  Michelangelo  intended  by  his  scheme  of 
color  is  entirely  lost.  Not  only  did  Daniele  da  Volterra,  an  execrable  colorist, 
dab  vividly  tinted  patches  upon  the  modulated  harmonies  of  the  flesh-tones 
painted  by  the  master,  but  the  whole  surface  has  sunk  into  a  bluish  fog,  deepen- 
ing to  something  like  lampblack  around  the  altar.  Nevertheless,  in  its  compo- 
sition the  fresco  may  still  be  studied,  and  we  are  not  unable  to  understand  the 


38  Ma^ttt^xn^tt 


enthusiasm  which  so  nobly  and  profoundly  planned  a  work  of  art  aroused 
among  contemporaries. 

"It  has  sometimes  been  asserted  that  this  enormous  painting,  the  largest  and 
most  comprehensive  in  the  world,  is  a  tempest  of  contending  forms,  a  hurly- 
burly  of  floating,  falling,  soaring,  and  descending  figures.  Nothing  can  be  more 
opposed  to  the  truth.  Michelangelo  was  sixty-six  years  of  age  when  he  laid 
his  brush  down  at  the  end  of  the  gigantic  task.  He  had  long  outlived  the 
spontaneity  of  youthful  ardor.  His  experience  through  half  a  century  in  the 
planning  of  monuments,  the  painting  of  the  Sistine  vault,  the  designing  of 
facades  and  sacristies  and  libraries, had  developed  the  architectonic  sense  which 
was  always  powerful  in  his  conceptive  faculty.  Consequently,  we  are  not  sur- 
prised to  find  that,  intricate  and  confused  as  the  scheme  may  appear  to  an 
unpractised  eye,  it  is  in  reality  a  design  of  mathematical  severity,  divided  into 
four  bands,  or  planes,  of  grouping.  The  pictorial  divisions  are  horizontal  in 
the  main,  though  so  combined  and  varied  as  to  produce  the  effect  of  multi- 
plied curves,  balancing  and  antiphonally  inverting  their  lines  of  sinuosity.  The 
pendentive  upon  which  the  prophet  Jonah  sits  descends  and  breaks  the  sur- 
face at  the  top,  leaving  a  semicircular  compartment  on  each  side  of  its  corbel. 
Michelangelo  filled  these  upper  spaces  with  two  groups  of  wrestling  angels, 
the  one  bearing  a  huge  cross,  the  other  a  column, —  chief  emblems  of  Christ's 
Passion.  The  crown  of  thorns  is  also  there,  the  sponge,  the  ladder,  and  the 
nails.  It  is  with  no  merciful  intent  that  these  signs  of  our  Lord's  suffering 
are  thus  exhibited.  Demonic  angels,  tumbling  on  clouds  like  Leviathans,  hurl 
them  to  and  fro  in  brutal  wrath  above  the  crowd  of  souls,  as  though  to  demon- 
strate the  justice  of  damnation.  The  Judge  is  what  the  crimes  of  the  world 
and  Italy  have  made  him.  Immediately  below  the  corbel,  and  well  detached 
from  the  squadrons  of  attendant  saints,  Christ  rises  from  his  throne.  His  face 
is  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  damned;  his  right  hand  is  lifted  as  though 
loaded  with  thunderbolts  for  their  annihilation.  The  Virgin  sits  in  a  crouch- 
ing attitude  at  his  right  side,  slightly  averting  her  head,  as  though  in  painful 
expectation  of  the  coming  sentence.  The  saints  and  martyrs  who  surround 
Christ  and  his  Mother,  while  forming  one  of  the  chief  planes  in  the  compo- 
sition, are  arranged  in  four  unequal  groups  of  subtle  and  surprising  intricacy. 

"The  two  planes  which  I  have  attempted  to  describe  occupy  the  upper  and 
larger  portion  of  the  composition.  The  third  in  order  is  made  up  of  three 
masses.  In  the  middle  floats  a  band  of  Titanic  cherubs,  blowing  their  long 
trumpets  over  earth  and  sea  to  wake  the  dead.  Dramatically,  nothing  can  be 
finer  than  the  strained  energy  and  superhuman  force  of  these  superb  creatures. 
Their  attitudes  compel  our  imagination  to  hear  the  crashing  thunders  of  the 
trump  of  doom.  To  the  left  of  the  spectator  are  souls  ascending  to  be  judged, 
some  floating  through  vague  ether,  enwrapped  with  grave-clothes,  others 
assisted  by  descending  saints  and  angels,  who  reach  a  hand,  a  rosary,  to  help 
the  still  gross  spirit  in  its  flight.  To  the  right  are  the  condemned,  sinking 
downwards  to  their  place  of  torment,  spurned  by  seraphs,  cuffed  by  angelic 
grooms,  dragged  by  demons,  hurling,  howling,  huddled  in  a  mass  of  horror. 
There  is  a  wretch,  twined  round  with  fiends,  gazing  straight  before  him  as 


he  sinks;  one-half  of  his  face  is  buried  in  his  hand,  the  other  fixed  in  a  stony 
spasm  of  despair,  foreshadowing  perpetuity  of  hell.  Just  below  is  the  place 
to  which  the  doomed  are  sinking.  Michelangelo  reverted  to  Dante  for  the 
symbolism  chosen  to  portray  hell.  Charon,  the  demon,  with  eyes  of  burning 
coal,  compels  a  crowd  of  spirits  in  his  ferry-boat.  They  land  and  are  received 
by  devils,  who  drag  them  before  Minos,  judge  of  the  infernal  regions.  He 
towers  at  the  extreme  right  end  of  the  fresco,  indicating  that  the  nether  regions 
yawn  infinitely  deep,  beyond  our  ken  ;  just  as  the  angels  above  Christ  suggest 
a  region  of  light  and  glory,  extending  upward  through  illimitable  space.  The 
scene  of  judgment  on  which  attention  is  concentrated  forms  but  an  episode 
in  the  universal,  sempiternal  scheme  of  things.  Balancing  hell,  on  the  left 
hand  of  the  spectator,  is  brute  earth,  the  grave,  the  forming  and  the  swallow- 
ing clay,  out  of  which  souls,  not  yet  acquitted  or  condemned,  emerge  with 
difficulty,  in  varied  forms  of  skeletons  or  corpses,  slowly  thawing  into  life 
eternal. 

"  Vasari,  in  his  description  of  the  '  Last  Judgment,'  seized  upon  what  after 
all  endured  as  the  most  salient  aspect  of  the  puzzling  work,  at  once  so  fas- 
cinating and  so  repellent.  '  It  is  obvious,'  he  says,  '  that  the  peerless 
painter  did  not  aim  at  anything  but  the  portrayal  of  the  human  body  in  per- 
fect proportions  and  most  varied  attitudes,  together  with  the  passions  and 
affections  of  the  soul.  That  was  enough  for  him,  and  here  he  has  no  equal. 
He  wanted  to  exhibit  the  grand  style, —  consummate  draughtsmanship  in  the 
nude,  mastery  over  all  problems  of  design.  He  concentrated  his  power  upon 
the  human  form,  attending  to  that  alone,  and  neglecting  all  subsidiary  things, 
as  charm  of  color,  capricious  inventions,  delicate  devices  and  novelties  of 
fancy.'  Vasari  might  have  added  that  Michelangelo  also  neglected  what 
ought  to  have  been  a  main  object  of  his  art, —  convincing  eloquence,  the 
solemnity  proper  to  his  theme,  spirituality  of  earthly  grossness  quit.  As  a 
collection  of  athletic  nudes  in  all  conceivable  postures  of  rest  and  action,  of 
foreshortening,  of  suggested  movement,  the  '  Last  Judgment '  remains  a  stu- 
pendous miracle. 

"  The  note  is  one  of  sustained  menace  and  terror,  and  the  total  scheme  of 
congregated  forms  might  be  compared  to  a  sense-deafening  solo  on  a  trom- 
bone. While  saying  this,  we  must  remember  that  it  was  the  constant  impulse 
of  Michelangelo  to  seize  one  moment  only,  and  what  he  deemed  the  most 
decisive  moment,  in  the  theme  he  had  to  develop.  Having  selected  the  in- 
stant of  time  at  which  Christ,  half  risen  from  his  judgment-seat  of  cloud, 
raises  an  omnific  hand  to  curse,  the  master  caused  each  fibre  of  his  complex 
composition  to  thrill  with  the  tremendous  passion  of  that  coming  sentence. 

"  Partial  and  painful  as  we  may  find  the  meaning  of  the  '  Last  Judgment,' 
that  meaning  has  been  only  too  powerfully  and  personally  felt.  The  denun- 
ciations of  the  prophets,  the  woes  of  the  Apocalypse,  the  invectives  of  Sa- 
vonarola, the  tragedies  of  Italian  history,  the  sense  of  present  and  indwelling 
sin,  storm  through  and  through  it.  Technicallv,  the  masterpiece  bears  signs 
of  fatigue  and  discontent,  in  spite  of  its  extraordinary  vigor  of  conception 
and  execution.    The  man  was  old  and  tired,  thwarted  in  his  wishes  and  op- 


40  jma^ter^in^rt 


pressed  with  troubles.  His  very  science  had  become  more  formal,  his  types 
more  arid  and  schematic,  than  they  used  to  be.  The  thrilling  life,  the  divine 
afflatus,  of  the  Sistine  vault  have  passed  out  of  the  '  Last  Judgment.'  " 

THE    PAINTINGS    OF    MICHELANGELO,     WITH    THEIR    PRESENT    LOCATIONS 

ENGLAND.  London,  National  Gallery:  Virgin  and  Child  with  Angels  (unfin- 
ished); Entombment  (unfinished) — ITALY.  Florence,  Uffizi  Gallery:  Holy 
Family  (Plate  i)  —  Rome,  Pauline  Chapel,  Vatican:  Conversion  of  St.  Paul  (fresco); 
Martyrdom  of  St.  Peter  (fresco)  —  Rome,  Sistine  Chapel,  Vatican:  Ceiling  (frescos) 
(Plates  II,  III,  IV,  v,  VI,  vii,  viii,  ix);  Altar  Wall,  Last  Judgment  (fresco)  (Plate  x). 


;:^tc|)elangelo  33tt)liog:rap|)5 

THOSE  who  desire  a  comparatively  comprehensive  bibliography  relating 
to  Michelangelo  are  referred  to  Luigi  Passerini's  '  Bibliografia  di  Michel- 
angelo Buonarroti'  (Florence,  187  5),  to  '  La  Bibliographie  Michelangel- 
esque,'  by  M.  Anatole  de  Montaiglon,  in  the  '  Gazette  des  Beaux-Arts  '  for 
1876  (Paris,  1876),  to  Mr.  Charles  Eliot  Norton's  '  List  of  the  Principal 
Books  relating  to  the  Life  and  Works  of  Michel-Angelo  '  (Cambridge,  1 8  7  9), 
and  to  the  more  recent  bibliography,  compiled  by  E.  H.  and  E.  W.  Blash- 
field  and  A.  A.  Hopkins,  editors,  in  their  '  Vasari's  Lives  of  the  Painters  ' 
(New  York,  1897).  In  the  following  list  are  named  only  a  few  principal 
works  chosen  from  the  enormous  literature  upon  Michelangelo. 

BOITO,  C.  Leonardo,  Michelangelo,  etc.  (Milan,  1883)  —  Clement,  C.  Michelan- 
gelo, Leonardo,  and  Raphael:  Trans,  by  L.  Corkran.  (London,  1880)  —  CoNDivi,  A. 
Vita  di  Michelangelo.  (Pisa,  1823)  —  Duppa,  R.  Life  of  Michel  Angelo.  (London,  1806) 
—  Gaye,  G.  Carteggio  d'Artisti.  (Florence,  1840)  —  Gazette  des  Beaux-Arts,  1876: 
L'CEuvre  et  la  vie  de  Michel-Ange:  A  Series  of  Articles  by  C.  Blanc,  E.  Guillaume, 
P.  Mantz,  C.  Gamier,  A.  Mezieres,  A.  de  Montaiglon.  (Paris,  1876)  —  Gotti,  A.Vitadi 
Michelangelo.  (Florence,  1875)  —  Grimm,  H.  Life  of  Michelangelo:  Trans,  by  F.  E. 
Bunnett.  (Boston,  1896)  —  Harford,  J.  S.  Life  of  Michael  Angelo.  (London,  1857)  — 
Knackfuss,  H.  Michelangelo.  (Leipsic,  1896)  —  Magherini,  G.  Michelangiolo.  (Flor- 
ence, 1875) — Milanesi,  G.  Le  Lettere  di  Michelangelo.  (Florence,  1875)  —  Ollivier, 
O.  E.  Michel-Ange.  (Paris,  1892)  —  Perkins,  C.  C.  Raphael  and  Michelangelo.  (Bos- 
ton, 1878)  —  QuiNCY,  Q.  DE.  Histoire  de  Michel-Ange.  (Paris,  1835)  —  Rio,  A.  F. 
Michel-Ange  et  Raphael.  (Paris,  1867)  —  Springer,  A.  Raffael  und  Michelangelo. 
(Leipsic,  1895)  —  Symonds,  J.  A.  Life  of  Michelangelo.  (London,  1893)  —  Symonds, 
J.  A.  Sonnets  of  Michelangelo  and  Campanella.  (London,  1878)  —  Vasari,  G.  Lives 
of  the  Painters.  (New  York,  1897)  —  Wilson,  C.  H.  Life  and  W'orks  of  Michelangelo. 
(London,  1876). 


MASTERS    IN    ART 


M 


3 
4-  Iwi  A 


A-*.JiC**4 


V  * 


^^i^> 


^SOBB^ 


BIGELOW 
KENNARD  SCO 

GOLDSMITHS 
SILVERSMITHS 
JEWELERS  ^ 
IMPORTERS 
MAKERS    OF 

FINE  \(;atches 

AND  CLOCKS 

511  WASHINGTON  ST 
CORNER  OF  WEST  ST 


M 


^jBmiS» 


mm 


ymmr 


Established  l86j 


The  Henry  F.  Miller 


Grand  and  Upright 

Pianofortes 

Noted  for  a  musical  quality  of  tone  which  many 
musicians  prefer  to  that  found  in  pianos  of  any 
other  7nanufacture.  Regardless  of  age,  and  w  her  e- 
ever  found  throughout  the  entire  United  States, 
these  instruments  attract  attention  because  of  the 
sweet  singing-tone  so  much  desired  by  musicians  ; 
and  this  is  a  guarantee  to  the  purchaser  that  this 
beautiful  quality  of  tone  is  lasting  and  continues 
during  the  entire  life  of  the  piano. 

WAREROOMS 

88  Boylston  Street,  Boston 
1 12 J  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia 


MASTERS    IN    ART 


J  \/  jr  T      'P\/'blij:hk'd 

Two  pictures  by  Rembrandt,  not 
heretofore  reproduced : 

David  Playing  the  Harp  to  Saul 

From  the  collection  of  Professor  Bredius  in  The 
Hague,  in  a  fine  photogravure  measuring  i8  1-2  x 
14  1-2  ins.,  at  $5.00,  printed  on  von  Gelder  paper; 
and 

Portrait  of  Pembrandt's  Prother  in 
Helmet 

(A  recent  acquisition  of  the  Berlin  Gallery)  in  the 
same  style,  measuring  14  x  16  ins.,  at  $5.00. 

AN  illustrated  list  of  our  series,  "Masterpieces 
OF  Art,"  of  works  by  the  old  masters  from  some 
of  the  foremost  galleries,  in  reproductions  of  superior 
quality,  in  the  same  style  as  the  above,  including  book- 
lets, "Masterpieces  of  Grosvenor  House"  and 
"The  Collection  of  the  German  Emperor,"  is 
mailed  upon  receipt  of  10  cts.  in  stamps. 

BERLIN  PHOTOGRAPHIC  CO. 

Fine  Art  "Publishers 

14  East  23d  St.,  New  York 


A  TRIP  ABROAD 

ANTWERP,  BRUSSELS,  PARIS,  COLOGNE,  THE 
RHINE,  HEIDELBERG,  LUCERNE,  THE  RIGI,  ST. 
GOTHARD  PASS,  MILAN,  VENICE,  VIENNA,  MU- 
NICH, NUREMBERG,  REGENSBURG  OR  BAY- 
REUTH,  DRESDEN,  THE  SAXON  SWITZERLAND, 
MEISSEN,  BERLIN,  AMSTERDAM,  THE  HAGUE, 
AND  LONDON. 

A  Tour  of  Urvusxia-l  Irvterest. 
69  Da.ys  $390.00 

-J»    XOrite  for  "Detailed  Itinerary  J^ 

AMES   i^l   R.OLLINSON 

202  Broad\vay,  Ne^v  York  City. 

$1.00    WELL    SPENT    in  buying  a 

Linervoid   Laundry  Box. 

Length,  20  in.    Width,  10  in.    Depth,  8  in. 
Forwarded,  express  prepaid,  on  receipt  of  $1. 

MONEY    REFUNDED    IF   NOT   S.-VTISFACTORY. 

crane:  BROS..  Linenoid  Mfrs., 

Send  for  Catalogue.  Westfield,  Mass. 


We  are  making  and  selling  the 
best  Art  Tool  in  use.  .Applies 
color  by  jet  of  air,  enabling  the 
artist  to  do  better  work  and  save 
time.  No  studio  complete  with- 
out it.    Circulars  free.    Address 

AIR  BRUSH  MFG.  CO. 
42  Nassau  St. ,  Rockford,  111. 


^erfeciicm    j 


iti^i  WSi-i^ii  CoLOUi^. 


ROWNEY'S  Finestdround: 

COLOURS   .  Mosi  Permanent\  IN  THE  MARKET. 

ARE  THE       MostBril/iintTj 

fofT  saleTby  all 

HIGH.  GiIaSS    451.^  DEALERS. 


Rowney*$  Jfrtists*  Colours 


(ENGLISH  MANUFACTURE) 


FOR  OIL  OR  WATER-COLOUR  PAINTING 


ROWNEY'S 
COLOURS 

ARE  MADE  OF  THE 
FINEST  SELECTED 
MATERIALS  OBTAIN- 
ABLE,  AND  SHOULD 
ALWAYS  BE  USED 
FOR   GOOD    WORK 


ESTABLISHED  1789 


ROWNEY'S 
COLOURS 

HAVE  BEEN  USED 
BY  THE  PRINCIPAL 
ARTISTS  IN  ENG- 
LAND  AND  FRANCE 
FOR  OVER  ONE 
HUNDRED  YEARS 


ESTABLISHED   1789 


FAVOR,  RUHL  &  CO. 


Importers 


54  Park  Place,  New  York 


MASTERS    IN    ART 


Carbon  prints; 


jftnest  anti  JWost  Burable  ^mporteti  Woxk^  of  9lrt 

100,000    Direct   Reproductions  from  the   Original  Paintings  and 
Drawings  by  Old  and  Modern  Masters 

Our  world-renowned  publications  of 
the  most  celebrated  masterpieces  by 
Titian  are  about  300  ;  by  Holbein,  400  ; 
by  Velasquez,  ISO;  by  Rembrandt, 
400;  by  Fra  Angelico,  120;  by  Fra 
Bartolommeo,  175;  by  Baudry,  100; 
by  Bellini,  100;  by  Botticelli,  1  00  ;  by 
Carracci,  220;  by  Chaplin,  100;  by 
Corot,  200;  by  Correggio,  130;  by 
Cranach,  100;  by  Diirer,  280  ;  by  Van 
Dyck,  350  ;  by  Greuze,  125  ;  by  Guer- 
chino,  17  0;  by  Guido  Reni,  140;  by 
Hals,  110;  by  Lorrain,  160;  by  Man- 
tegna,  100;  by  Michelangelo,  260;  by 
Millet,  200  ;  by  Murillo,  125  ;  by  Peru- 
gino,  120;  by  Poussin,  140;  by  Prud- 
hon,  180;  by  Raphael,  800;  by  Romano, 
100;  by  Rubens,  500;  by  Ruysdael, 
100;  by  Andrea  del  Sarto,  160;  by 
Teniers,  110;  by  Tintoretto,  100;  by 
Veronese,  100;  by  da  Vinci,  365;  by 
Watteau,  100;  etc.,  magnificent  col- 
lections of  Ancient,  Mediaeval,  and  Mod- 
ern Architecture  and  Sculpture. 

The  Illustrated  Extract  fr-om  our  General  Catalogue  sent  on  application.    Price ^  JO 
cents  i^free  to  Educational  Institutions^.      Special  terms  to  schools. 

3Sraun,  CItmmt  S.  Co. 

crntt  .c  2811,  st«c.  249  jFtftt)  a^etiue,  jEetD  gork  Citp 

No  other  Branch  House  in  America 


K 

i 

#*?5r7 

IF  f- 

mhL'''  '   '^~'8 

mHP 

R 

^H^HL'  . 

HHjjr^^^'Nv^      ^ 

1 

^H^^^B^f^ 

i 

wk 

^I^^^HT^ 

r^s  y    ^ 

1 

^H 

pi 

I 

^^^f^^^A 

i     v^a 

^' Ti^^e 

H 

k^tiiMi 

IMM 

wm.. 

n 

MASTERS     IN    ART 


Otiffierj:    o_f    B xx tidings 
At? Old  Liabilitjr 

from  damages  caused  by  ice  or  snow 
falling  from  roofs  by  applying 

T!;£  Folsom  New  Model 
Snow  Guard 

TRADE  MARK  a  yC\  This  is  the  simplest 
and  only  perfect  device 
which  holds  snow  where 
it  falls,  prevents  slides, 
or  the  gathering  of  snow 
and  ice  at  the  eaves, 
which  so  frequentlv  causes  water  to  back  up 
under  the  shingles  or  slates  and  damage  walls 
and  ceilings.  Folsom  Snow  Guards  are  made 
for  shingle,  slate,  tile,  or  metal  roofs,  both  old 
and  new,  and  are  applied  at  trifling  expense. 
Specified  as  the  standard  snow  guard  by 
architects  everv  where.    Write  for  information. 

FOLSOM  SNOW  GUARD  CO. 

105  Beach  Street,  Boston,  Mass. 


PYROGRAPHY 


OR 


BURNT  WOOD 
ETCHING 

The  art  of  decorating  wood,  leather, 
or  cardboard  by  burning  the  design 
into  the  article  to  be  decorated 


A  descriptive  booklet,  giving  directions, 
description  and  price  list  of  tools  and 
materials,   designs,   etc.,    will  be  sent 
free  upon  request 


THAYER  &   CHANDLER 

IMPORTERS   AND    DEALERS    IN    ART 
GOODS  OF  EVERY  DESCRIPTION 

144-146  Wabash  Ave.,       Chicago,  111. 


Visitors  to  New  York 

Are  cordially  invited  to  the 

exbibition  Of  Paintings 


By    Bouguereau,    Rosa    Bonheur,    Cazin,    Corot, 

Daubigny,  Dupre,  Diaz,  Fromentin,  Henner, 

Jacque,  Meissonier,  Roybet,  Rousseau, 

Thaulow,  Troyon,    Ziem, 

and  a 

COLLECTION 

of  Portraits  by  the  Old  Masters  of  the 
Early  French,  English,  and  Dutch  Schools 

JIrt  6allerlc$ 

of 

EDWARD    BRANDUS 

391    Fifth  Avenue        Rue  de  la  Paix 

Between  36th  and  37th  Streets  J  ^ 


New  York 


Paris 


The  Great  Picture  Light. 

FRINK'S    PORTABLE 
PICTURE  REFLECTORS 


For  electric  light,  meet  all  requirements  for 
lighting  pictures.  Every  owner  of  fine 
paintings  could  use  one  or  more  of  these 
portable  reflectors  to  advantage.  The  fact 
that  so  many  have  ordered  these  outfits  for 
their  friends  is  proof  that  their  merits  are 
appreciated.  Height,  closed,  51  inches  ;  ex- 
tended, 81  inches.  The  light  from  the  re- 
flector can  be  directed  at  any  picture  in  the 
room  and  at  any  angle. 


Frink's  Portable  Picture  Reflector 

with  Telescope  Standard. 

No.  7034,  brass,  polished  or  antique,  with 
plug  and  socket  for  electric  lamp,  $27.50. 

No.  7035,  black  iron,  with  plug  and  socket 
for  electric  lamp $16.50 


Nos.  7034,  7035. 
Pat.  Dec.  14,  '97. 


These  special  Reflectors  are  used  by  all 
the  picture-dealers  in  New  York,  and  by  pri- 
vate collectors  not  only  in  this  country,  put 
in  Paris,  London,  Berlin,  and  other  cities. 
When  ordering,  kindly  mention  the  system 
of  electricity  used.  Satisfaction  guaranteed. 
Parties  ordering  these  Reflectors  need  not 
hesitate  to  return  them  at  our  expense  if 
not  found  satisfactory. 


I.   P.  FRINK.   551   Pearl  Street,   New  York  City. 

GEO.  FRINK  SPENCER,  Manager. 
Telephone,  860  Franklin. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subjea  to  immediate  recall. 


jUU23l96yoy 


CiMar'filDjj 


r^:g'P  ld 


J  UN    f  196^ 


jpire9^^ 


111 


18Jan'65BG 


RECTO-t© 


2i'65'3ptt 


JI\H 


^?^^^^'[ 


^24'663^Hiiti 


^^«I9  1968  8  .., 


LOAN  D'gP'^. 

LD  21A-50m-4,'60 
(A9562sl0)476B 


General  Libr? 
Univenity  of  Ca' 
Berkele 


YD0393S8 


37694 


l\^^ 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


V 


V 


■••» 


RTMEN 


WH    'lAKH    PLE.A51TF,H'  m    ANNOUI 
<Ug^^mmG   OP   MAGNIFiaeNT.NEW 
portieres:, AND   HANGINGS. 

^oNs  OF  rim^mymdo^m^Gi 

A'n'R  ACTIVE    BEAUTIHJLlhui'  CirRT4 
''  (:LUSiVii,Y.-FC«^:m''''TO  Will 

'^".{^::  Si  CHS 'for  (ym  Pi^^  of 

^yEESXpATES    AP^JP|VICE    FOl 
:C*. ATIKDM*  GOI^I^TSoIONS  WITH  OTJ 
|{)   ,A:r.E    ■■mOROUGH#''1EXPERIENCHX>   IN. 

^F1A:-.S    -Ji-    THIS'*'1BRANCH    OF   THE    B^ 

?J  ')  OUR  PATRONS; 


&   CO* 


wiJ-rww^ 


Km.)  ' 


LAGS 


m^m^m^sf^assm 


.;C?>* 


